NEEDLING

Feeling good. Got out of bed just a few minutes past 5am this morning. Brutus wouldn’t get up. Kept looking up at me wondering what the hell was wrong with me getting up at this ungodly hour. I turned my room upside down looking for my bathing trunks. I haven’t gone swimming in ages. The last time was last summer in the Llano river at the ranch of Brian’s dad. The time before that was in that very same location. And the time before that, I believe was in the south of France in the ocean. Found my bathing trunk hidden underneath a pile of mismatched socks. Brutus started doing stretches. Since the lights were on, and it didn’t look like I was going back to bed, he started waking up. Took him out for a walk along the railroad track, came back home, locked him inside, and drove on down to the YMCA. Boy oh boy it was cold outside. The swimming pool is outside, and it was below forty degrees this morning. The water’s heated to a very comfortable 84 degrees. But you got to get from the locker room to the swimming pool, and there’s no way around that one. It’s cold. Period. But at least once you’re in the water, there’s nothing else to do but do laps. If too much of your body is sticking out of the water, then it’s too cold, so you just keep swimming, which is exactly what I did for about forty five minutes. 8h30. I’m all sore now. This being the first time in years—literally—that I’ve done any kind of exercise. I’m at the coffee shop next door to my car-oil-lub-place. It’s not even 9am, and I’ve manage to work on my screenplay, get some exercise, walk my dog, and get my car taken care of! What the hell’s wrong with me?