Old habits die hard

In spite of everything I said to the contrary, at the end of high school I had resolved never to row again. For a year I succeeded. But working at a canoe club right beside a rowing club is hard on my resolve, to say the least.

When they opened up the shed and I saw the shells, I nearly peed myself. They were so beautiful. On Monday I'm going to ask the coach on my hands and knees if I can use one.

I went home and dug out the journal that I was supposed to record all my workouts in grades 11 and 12, when I was really competitive. I was kind of surprised at what I found there:

"There follows a time between October 30 and November 25 when there was much rowing and little on land training... Then it was ordained that Erin should be struck upon the shoulder by Tom McGurdy causing much injury that the almighty John decreed two weeks of rest, which having good effect upon said injury, had good effect upon Erin's homework as well, though had no effect whatsoever upon the dishes, the dusting... or the weird smelling shit at the back of the fridge. And so it is entered within the annals of training..."

And then later on:

"26. And it was ordained that between December 30 and April 26 the Annals of Training would be lost from the eyes of man...
27. And Erin found said journal with much glee.
28. And Erin was reminded of erging.
29. And Erin said unto Erin: "Lo! I have found my training journal! Let us rejoyce and praise by erging much.
30. And it was done."

Spandex fetish aside, sometimes I think I really am as weird as people think I am.