Today, I decided to use every pool tool in my netted bag of tricks. They had been ignored like an island of misfit toys. I put on my fins for a few hundred yards. Suddenly, it felt like I had on a jet propulsion pack.
Funny how there’s nothing else in our tri world of exercises that makes us feel like we can fly with so little effort.
It’s not like we can add a motor to our bikes for a few miles and call it a good drill. It’s not like we can strap springs onto our running shoes and cut our time, sweat and exertion levels in a one big stride.
Fins seem counterintuitive to a good workout. Frankly, they make me so darn fast that it feels like cheating. I want to feel that fast more often. But alas, I don’t have webbed feet. I have long, narrow feet and toes. They are not conducive for creating a wake for my fellow competitors.
I snuck in a catnap this afternoon and contemplated it. ‘Why can’t I have fins all the time?’ I thought to myself with just a hint of inner cranky child. I had to talk myself out of it. It wouldn’t be convenient. ‘You’d walk like a penguin. You’d look silly in client meetings. You couldn’t drive. You’d roll over yourself with the shopping cart grocery shopping.‘ I should be careful what I wish for…I still want fins.