Yesterday marked the first official Walden swim of the year. If you missed it, father of the year (ok... just father), Mr. Michael Hollywood sent out the first "Notis": Nipples hard and scrotums shrunk,Walden swimmers can't be sunk.Come join the first official organized Walden swim of 2009!
Be there, or be mocked for your lack of commitment!
May 1, 2009 @6amWetsuits optional Helen's afterwards
-Hollywood
Most of us are smart enough to wait until the water warms a bit.....as I said...."most". Hollywood describes the scene....
5am. It used to be tough waking up that early, but in the past few weeks I've become surprisingly good at going from zero to sixty (OK, thirty-five) at strange hours. Besides, it's a lot easier to get excited about the first Walden swim of the season than a poopy diaper. "Don't forget your wetsuit..." was the only advice my wife could manage. She's even more tired than I am. I was more concerned about forgetting my camera. Documentation of the first Walden swim has become a mandatory event over the past several years. Regina, who had covered us in the past, had emailed Thursday night to say her presence should not be expected. No worries, I thought, i'll take care of it. Though I generally try not to, I could not resist checking my email in the car on my way to the pond. Pokress - "I'm out." Kurtz - "staying in the pool until after TW." "Wimps!" I thought gleefully. Granted, they put in more hours last week than I've put in since new year's. 
At least I would have this one day on them. 
Turning off of Rt. 2 and onto 126 I was consumed with anticipation. Looking forward to many weeks of Friday morning swims, surrounded by good company, followed by the ritualistic consumption of breakfasty goodness. Summer is almost here, I thought to myself. And a big, warm grin stretched across my face. I pulled up to the horseshoe at the visitor center and saw Ira crossing the road. I would not be alone this morning! Not only that, but I was going to be joined by a BTT newbie, who actually beat me to the pond! Good on ya, Ira. I hopped out of the car, grabbing my camera, my towel, 2 swim caps and 2 pairs of goggles (nothing was stopping me this morning!) and reached into the back seat to find... NOTHING. Not even the *smell* of neoprene in my car. Now, I could have gone all "Dori" and jumped right in, but felt that my services as the press corp would be more valuable than my services as fish food after my heart slowly ceased beating somewhere around Rob (Sczupak)'s beach. So, I took pictures. 
Way to go, Jeff and Ira, for being everything I wanted to be, but wasn't. See you all next week... And in the immor(t)al words of Maggie O'Toole: Wetsuits optional.
At least I would have this one day on them. 
Turning off of Rt. 2 and onto 126 I was consumed with anticipation. Looking forward to many weeks of Friday morning swims, surrounded by good company, followed by the ritualistic consumption of breakfasty goodness. Summer is almost here, I thought to myself. And a big, warm grin stretched across my face. I pulled up to the horseshoe at the visitor center and saw Ira crossing the road. I would not be alone this morning! Not only that, but I was going to be joined by a BTT newbie, who actually beat me to the pond! Good on ya, Ira. I hopped out of the car, grabbing my camera, my towel, 2 swim caps and 2 pairs of goggles (nothing was stopping me this morning!) and reached into the back seat to find... NOTHING. Not even the *smell* of neoprene in my car. Now, I could have gone all "Dori" and jumped right in, but felt that my services as the press corp would be more valuable than my services as fish food after my heart slowly ceased beating somewhere around Rob (Sczupak)'s beach. So, I took pictures. 
Way to go, Jeff and Ira, for being everything I wanted to be, but wasn't. See you all next week... And in the immor(t)al words of Maggie O'Toole: Wetsuits optional. 
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