Tuesday, October 8, 2013

974. Here's What Happened to Me Today

I hired a personal trainer.  Before you think I’m some wealthy heiress, know this:  I suffered from a debilitating back injury over the summer.  After ER trips, X-rays, drugs, doctor’s visits, physical therapy, massage, and a renewed desire for a drink called a “zombie” (a nauseating-sounding blend of rum, brandy, pineapple juice, and orange juice—don’t judge), I figured I had earned a few sessions of personal training. 

Personal training would not only cure my back pain, I rationalized, it would inevitably turn me into Claudia Schiffer.  Or Heidi Klum.  Or Gwyneth.    

Anyway, things went great with my trainer until he announced that he expected me to be working out on some of our “off” days.  (Note to self: I always thought “off” meant “off”?)   Since I can only afford the trainer twice/week, that meant he expected me to work out at least three of the remaining days. 
Deflated, I asked him if it would be okay if I swam on one of those days. 

“Sure! I think that would be a great idea!” he enthused. 
The next morning at 5am sharp, I was in the pool swimming laps.  I had new goggles, a new swimcap, and a new attitude.  I was a female Michael Phelps. 

When I got out of the pool, I decided to chat with the lifeguard for a few minutes.  Since he would be the one saving my life if my future self happened to hit her head against the cement pool wall, I thought it would be good to at least know his name. 
It was a difficult Russian name and I immediately forgot it.  I changed the subject and asked him if he liked swimming.  (Gimme a break, it was early.  I couldn’t think of anything else to chat about.) 

He promptly replied, “I can’t swim.” 
Yikes!  The lifeguard can’t swim?! 

Realizing his error in language, he corrected himself:  “I am not allowed to swim while on duty.” 
At least I got my heart rate up.   

trifecta writing challenge/ exactly 333 words/ key word is "zombie"


  1. I'm my own personal trainer/physical therapist. We have a therapy pool at work, which is where my pain ridden self works out. At this point, I'm hoping to rehab my injured knee enough that climbing stairs doesn't hurt too much, and hopefully I won't end up needing knee replacements!

  2. Are you sure the truth did not slip out and he was just giving you the company line about not being allowed to swim, sounds fishy to me. (Followed by a roar of laughter at my cleverness as I reach for the lovely glass of Estancia.

  3. My heart would have stopped too! funny post...good luck with the personal trainer!
    Blessings, Joanne

  4. If he's not allowed to swim while on duty how is he supposed to rescue you if you are drowning in the middle of the pool!?!?!?!

  5. Hilarious story! I got my heart rate up just from laughing so hard;) You never disappoint with your writing!

  6. Bahaha! That's awesome. And don't feel bad about immediately forgetting his name. His name could have been Bob and I would have immediately forgotten.

    Of course, if he were a Bob, he wouldn't need to be able to swim.


  7. Loved your take on the challenge! Very nice!

  8. I bet he really can't swim. :-) This was a funny little story, MOV. Thanks for sharing. I used to have a personal trainer who was appalled that I did absolutely no physical activity that he didn't see. I thought off meant off, too. :-)

  9. Oh my gosh... 'I can't swim'... now that would be a scary lifeguard!

  10. Oops.. Glad you didn't die of a heart-attack

  11. I guess I need to get a few "on" days before I am allowed to have an off one.


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