Life under water
The 2005 World Bikini Championships!
Otherwise known as my gym.
It's been a while since I got down to the pool in the evenings - usually it's a sneak-out session in the middle of the day. But I realised last night: since my gym's in the West End, it's where girls head after a hard day in the fashion business. And girls in the fashion business tend to be slim, young, and hot.
Now, you might think this is a good thing. Trouble is, I'm there to train, and it takes serious concentration to maintain your stroke when every three seconds a bikini'd blonde sluices past in the other direction. First, involuntarily holding the stroke too long in order to admire the view screws up my bouyancy, since my body starts losing its horizontal pose in the water, legs sinking and head bobbing up. Second, glancing back, forward, or even up to the poolside destroys all rhythm, and I have to reset my pace. Third, I'm no good at bilateral breathing, so I find myself doing the return leg at higher speed with only a wall to look at. None of this deliberate; my body's just responding to three million years of evolved male behaviour.
This isn't lecherous ogling, either: I simply admire the female form, and an athletic female body is truly a work of art. Sculpture and fitness - body as art, body as machine. Two sides of worshipping the peak human form. An unbeatable combination.
And as a result, I can't even break 30mins for the 1500m.
If this goes on, I'll have to switch to the City branch of this gym. I'm pretty sure flabby merchant bankers aren't going to be much of a distraction.
Otherwise known as my gym.
It's been a while since I got down to the pool in the evenings - usually it's a sneak-out session in the middle of the day. But I realised last night: since my gym's in the West End, it's where girls head after a hard day in the fashion business. And girls in the fashion business tend to be slim, young, and hot.
Now, you might think this is a good thing. Trouble is, I'm there to train, and it takes serious concentration to maintain your stroke when every three seconds a bikini'd blonde sluices past in the other direction. First, involuntarily holding the stroke too long in order to admire the view screws up my bouyancy, since my body starts losing its horizontal pose in the water, legs sinking and head bobbing up. Second, glancing back, forward, or even up to the poolside destroys all rhythm, and I have to reset my pace. Third, I'm no good at bilateral breathing, so I find myself doing the return leg at higher speed with only a wall to look at. None of this deliberate; my body's just responding to three million years of evolved male behaviour.
This isn't lecherous ogling, either: I simply admire the female form, and an athletic female body is truly a work of art. Sculpture and fitness - body as art, body as machine. Two sides of worshipping the peak human form. An unbeatable combination.
And as a result, I can't even break 30mins for the 1500m.
If this goes on, I'll have to switch to the City branch of this gym. I'm pretty sure flabby merchant bankers aren't going to be much of a distraction.
posted by chrisworth at 10:29 AM
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