The pool was nice, I felt unencumbered, and semi-mobile. Most of my rehab was done on ground, however, and was very intense. An athletic background helped me just work and not think Why do I have to do this? Or This is hard, can't I take a nap? And, I really couldn't say anything, because my jaw was broken and had been wired shut.
Let's get back to what I actually do in water, if I can't swim. The pool I exercise in is on the far edge of town. Maybe that's why there is never a huge crowd of hot, lean, fit babes or excessively attractive, muscle bound, beefy men. So I don't have to hobble through those types on my way to the pool. And the pool itself is usually empty. If not, the people in the water are usually physically compromised like me. It seems the gym/pool is paired up with a physical therapist's practice. Misery might love company, but comparing physical hardships with strangers lost its appeal a log time ago.
Bottom line: I like to flail about in the water, in the name of exercise, alone. My routine includes:
- variations on form running drills my cross country/track athletes begin practices with, but while holding foam dumbbells
- weird stretches on a long bench that runs the length of the pool
- more weird stretches on the stairs/hand rail leading into the pool
- even more weird stretches on the latter in the deep end
- water aerobic exercises I remember from classes in Lynden, and Boise
- survival-type swimming on my back, kicking the length of pool, hands at my side
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