Second fit test is the day after tomorrow. We're both starting to freak out. G because she wants to snag a spot on the boat; me because I want to keep mine. Even though I made the first pick, it's not a free ticket. In some respects the pressure is even greater now than at the first test back in November. I have to justify my spot and coaches' choice.
Trainings this week have been tough. Still a lot of humor though. And lots of positive energy. We started doing our routine yesterday, super-setting our exercises so we could get out of the gym at a reasonable time. At one point we looked at one another, raised our eyebrows and wondered if we'd somehow goofed up on the weights we'd chosen.
"Do your weights seem light to you?"
"Yeah. Yours?"
"16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Yeah!"
"Could we be THAT much stronger? Than last week?"
"Err... did u write down your numbers right?"
"You did them."
"Oh. Then they're right."
"Wow. This is crazy."
"I guess we're just beasts."
I don't know what was going on, but it made us feel great. We finished and went to hit the hot tub.
A very, shall-we-say, portly, sixty-something lady in a bright, flowered bathing suit was sitting in the tub. And taking up a lot of it. As I approached, I noticed the water was awfully calm.
"Hello. No bubbles?" I said as I got up to the edge. Please don't let it be broken.
"No bubbles."
"No bubbles?" I repeated, dazed. This was completely unexpected. And unacceptable. What does she MEAN no bubbles?
"No bubbles," she stated a little more forcefully now, with a meaningful look. As if to say "what don't you get?" But I got it now. It's not that there WEREN'T bubbles, she just didn't WANT any. Drat!
"Oh." She must have thought me thick as two short planks by this point. "No bubbles. Ok."
I got in carefully - my first time trying this out after surgery... didn't want to slip and fall and mess everything up, everything's been healing so well. G at my rear, we maneuvered around the lady's knees and sandaled feet (really? who does that?) and plopped down at the opposite end of the tub. It was too much like being in a bath and not the exciting, massaging experience we'd been anticipating. Grrr.
"Hey, there's sort of a jet over here," G said, "slide over here." I scooched over. It was weak, but it felt good on my still-bruised leg. The gentle pressure loosened some of the stiffness and eased the tension. I closed my eyes and started to doze.. as much as you can in that sort of situation. I started to lose my seat a bit and righting myself, glanced up just in time to see a man, also of considerable girth, who'd been looking over at us since we'd walked in, raise his bulk up and out of the swimming pool to our right and approach the tub. I was partly annoyed at the thought of having additional companions in the tub (yes I was feeling decidedly anti-social, so what!?), but mostly I was hopeful that he would just hit the button and swirl up the water. Fat chance. Instead, he lowered himself in with great difficulty, and claimed a spot directly opposite the lady.
They seemed to know one another, and though she started talking at him, he seemed more interested in G and me. Sorry, but we're really not interested in small talk. We just want some bubbles!!
Each time the lady (who, it turned out, was the man's wife) altered her position, G and I sent her telepathic messages, trying to convince her that she really wanted to get out. It was excrutiating! But eventually, out she got. G and I looked hopefully at the man.
"Would you mind if we turned on the bubbles?"
"As soon as she leaves, you go right ahead."
Yay! The day was saved!
"I'm big," he said, "but SHE wears the pants."
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