The Groundhog's Seen His Shadow

February 2 ... drizzling rain ... gloomy skies. Inside the college meeting room, however, local TNT Tri Team members get together en masse for the first time. There are many of us! I think I may be the elder woman of the group. Yay — we receive the final training schedule and swim workouts will be at a local pool (not Lake Natoma). Not that I don't like open water swimming; it's just that the idea of peeling off my clothes — knowing that the trek back from the lake to car park will be tragically long — seems somehow unattractive in February.

Perhaps in March? April?

Actually, peeling off my garments is unattractive, when one considers I have gained back all (and more) of the pounds lost in 2002. That was the last year I engaged in anything sportific. My dear husband is nearsighted and canna see th' fat; even if he could, he'd still love me. In slacks and sweater, I can hide the flub. Next Thursday I'll unveil my thighs of five decades, and my flabby arms. I might be the least-fit of all the team, but I'll be there at the pool. Today we that heard the groundhog saw his shadow. Does that mean six more weeks of winter? Or did he catch a glimpse of his pudgy self and waddled right back to bed?

Gad, I hate swimming.