Alex calls me early in the morning to eulogise about how brilliant it is going swimming in the morning before work. She's aware of my issues with Haringey Council over their ridiculous Park Road scheduling and is calling to helpfully volunteer me to try out an AM swim tomorrow. I've heard worse ideas - I certainly know a lot of people who exercise in the morning, but I can't shake just how terrible I am on weekday mornings. There's nothing quite as cosy or comfortable as your bed at around 8am on a weekday, when you know you shouldn't be there. At the weekend I practically leap out of bed well before nine - but in the week I could easily stay there for hours longer than I do. The idea of not only being up but getting dressed, going out, exercising, then coming home again fills me with cold dread, especially at this cold, dreadful time of year.
Having said all this, I am keep to get back into swimming while Haringey flirts with idiocy (and it is rumoured that this timetable is just temporary) - so I foolishly commit to getting up at 7am tomorrow and giving it a go. Ugh.
K is out again this evening so I amuse myself in the normal Monday evening way: cooking, watching University Challenge and writing. I get a woeful 11 correct answers tonight - but part of me thinks I should start recording my scores and plotting them somewhere, seeing if I can force myself to improve over time. Maybe there's another blog in it.
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