I wandered out of the swimming lesson today, greeted by the glorious smell of barbecuing meat. All is well in the world. Even my breaststroke is somewhat improved.
There are still issues, of course. It was only with the last lap of the (12 metre) pool that I managed to syncrosise my breathing with being above water, and not grind to an ignominious halt, or sink to the bottom. But one lap is better than none.
Things for next week: although I’m (mostly) getting my feet into an inverted v shape before I kick out, I’m not remembering to clap my feet together at the end of the stroke, or bring them in efficiently after. Too much of the time I’ve been bringing my knees to my belly, rather than my heels to my butt. And as I bring my legs in, I should be keeping my knees together, rather than my legs flapping pathetically all over the place.
Also, I need to practice more. My first kick is the best, and then it goes progressively downhill from there, whereas with my freestyle it’s fairly easy to adjust if things aren’t quite right to begin with.
On freestyle, my refuge from the harsh realities of breaststroke, there’s less to work on. I keep my head up too long after I’ve inhaled – it needs to be back in the water before my arm comes back – but I’m looking backward, pulling hard, remembering to keep kicking all the time. That feels under control.
The rest of my body is still falling apart. My heel has got worse this week, rather than better. At least the physio for my neck has solved all those issues. Perhaps I’m lucky that the race at MacRitchie on Saturday has been cancelled due to disorganisation from the organisation. Now if I could only shed weight like a race organisation drops dates…
Anyway, home to an early night. Or three hours of raucous yelling from the girls. I’ll be asleep either way, one of the many advantages of swimming lessons…