Okay I’m adjusting my attitude here. I’m trying to get more up beat. But it ain’t easy.
Everyone is swimming two events on this team except Jesse, who’s only doing the 50 freestyle. I asked why, because they promised me she’d be in at least two. The answer was inchoate. I think they think they’re doing her a favor because she’s shown some, uh, very anxious behaviors at prior meets.
But nothing could be worse than sitting around on your ass all day, waiting and waiting. And waiting. Still waiting. To swim for 45 seconds, once.
Jesse’s really struggling with this. Having a hard time staying calm.
Mm. On the up side, Jesse’s heat is scheduled for 1:45 so we won’t have to stick around until the end of the meet to leave. I hope her iPad battery holds on.
I anticipate that at approximately 1:47, I’ll be standing poolside next to the starting block for Jesse’s lane. The scene is playing out in my mind already. She pulls herself out of the pool. As her arms heave her up, I reach over and jam her sneakers on before her feet even hit the deck. Then I inspire her to run by poking her cute little butt cheeks. We scream “FREEEEEDOOOOM” like Mel Gibson’s William Wallace while we run pell-mell straight to my car, which I’ve pre-packed with all our gear. We never look back as I screech out of the parking lot, leaving a cloud of road salt behind us.