One mile

That's how far I swam yesterday. Not a real mile, but a "swimmer's mile" which is shorter - 1,650 yards. I'm told that they call that a mile because it's roughly equivalent to 1.5 k, which is what they call the mile race in international competition (although why they don't call that the 1.5 k or the 1500 meter, I don't know. Swimmers are weird.). I was really, really slow, but I did it with only very short breaks of 10 to 12 breaths at four points in the swim, and I did ten of the laps with continuous freestyle. So overall, I'm pretty happy with how my swimming is coming along. My SI joint still hurts afterwards, but it doesn't seem that bad today. And I don't expect to speed up anytime soon since I'm still doing the swim essentially without kicking. But just knowing that I'll be able to get through that part of the triathlon is encouraging--back in late January I was really worried that I'd have to drop out of the race since even a couple of strokes of swimming was so painful.

And then I got out of the pool and discovered my gym bag had been stolen, but you all know that already. I want to know, though, why bad crap seems to happen to me when I'm doing something virtuous? If I spent my lunch break sitting on a bench and smoking while eating a McDonald's super size meal, I'd still have my iPod and phone and cute outfit. If I had slept in on Sunday morning last year instead of going to church, my bike wouldn't have gotten stolen. Clearly the universe is trying to send me a message, but for the record, I don't think "no good deed goes unpunished" is such a great message!