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Jon Mac misses you.
As I sit here on my couch in the shitty town of Olean, NY with my jeep that has no battery in it, sore muscles all over, and the shitty climate I await the vibration of my cell phone alarm at 0503HRS to get up and go put on a speedo and dive into an icy pool filled with tears, sorrow, and pain I realize I miss being at home and around SIS. All of the laughs, brews, and good times we have enjoyed this summer are but a memory being played over in my head that is squeezed by a dome shaped piece of latex. I guess I could consider it day-brightening entertainment during those pre-dawn hours swimming up and down the pool with my lats screaming, legs on fire, lungs being crushed, and a heart rate upwards of 230 beats per minute. God knows we need something to brighten the day. As a swimmer, particularly a distance swimmer, you must find ways to maintain your sanity during long practices swimming 10000 meters in a day. Other than these fond memories, the replay of a Rihanna song that was on the radio on the way to practice is the only thing that plays through my head on these darkest of morning practices. I try to cut through the sound of Rihanna with the rumble of a 4.0, screeching of a 2.5, the clink of 2 yuenglings together, or the primal screams of Phil Larocca screaming "OH SHIT" up zuki hill. I try to laugh at the hard hat worn by passengers of the one and only Matt Dinicoldick but I just swallow water and choke
. I want to ask Zullo where his buggy is, but all that comes out are bubbles. I want to design the long arms for my jeep but paper doesn't work underwater. Niether does a nice fire. I want to ask Erik Villa why he set his pinion angle so high a couple weeks ago, and call Galica a pussy for having too small of tires. I want to look at all our jeeps parked in the RC parking lot, but I CAN'T SEE. My goggles are too fogged. I want my skin to be greasy monkey status from a wrench and a leaking axle, but chlorine dries my skin to cracking point. I want to wheel with Dan and his newly designed jeep, it looks much cooler than a black line on the bottom of the pool. I must miss the party in Jersey for a Saturday practice consisting of 4 hours of being fisted running, weightlifting, and swimming.
My swimming sorrows sit with me throughout practice in between beautiful flashbacks of a great summer with SIS. The only thing I can look forward to are those graceful words of my coach, "OUT", and the sizzle of 2 eggs over hard with cheese on the grill. I can then get on my computer and back on the forum. Something I look forward to during those dark hours of training. I also look forward to the weekend, where I may take care of my boner and drink heavily on Saturday evening. These things are nice, but nothing compared to rolling into a filled Mabel parking lot, awaiting SIS guests at my house for a rager, or the loud 200 degree drive to RC where a fire, beer, and wheeling run await accompanied by the inevitable breakdown of a vehicle and a wrench in hand.
#TheLifeOfAnNCAASwimmerWhoDoesOtherCoolShit
SIS,
I.MISS.YOU.ALL.
As I sit here on my couch in the shitty town of Olean, NY with my jeep that has no battery in it, sore muscles all over, and the shitty climate I await the vibration of my cell phone alarm at 0503HRS to get up and go put on a speedo and dive into an icy pool filled with tears, sorrow, and pain I realize I miss being at home and around SIS. All of the laughs, brews, and good times we have enjoyed this summer are but a memory being played over in my head that is squeezed by a dome shaped piece of latex. I guess I could consider it day-brightening entertainment during those pre-dawn hours swimming up and down the pool with my lats screaming, legs on fire, lungs being crushed, and a heart rate upwards of 230 beats per minute. God knows we need something to brighten the day. As a swimmer, particularly a distance swimmer, you must find ways to maintain your sanity during long practices swimming 10000 meters in a day. Other than these fond memories, the replay of a Rihanna song that was on the radio on the way to practice is the only thing that plays through my head on these darkest of morning practices. I try to cut through the sound of Rihanna with the rumble of a 4.0, screeching of a 2.5, the clink of 2 yuenglings together, or the primal screams of Phil Larocca screaming "OH SHIT" up zuki hill. I try to laugh at the hard hat worn by passengers of the one and only Matt Dinicoldick but I just swallow water and choke
. I want to ask Zullo where his buggy is, but all that comes out are bubbles. I want to design the long arms for my jeep but paper doesn't work underwater. Niether does a nice fire. I want to ask Erik Villa why he set his pinion angle so high a couple weeks ago, and call Galica a pussy for having too small of tires. I want to look at all our jeeps parked in the RC parking lot, but I CAN'T SEE. My goggles are too fogged. I want my skin to be greasy monkey status from a wrench and a leaking axle, but chlorine dries my skin to cracking point. I want to wheel with Dan and his newly designed jeep, it looks much cooler than a black line on the bottom of the pool. I must miss the party in Jersey for a Saturday practice consisting of 4 hours of being fisted running, weightlifting, and swimming.My swimming sorrows sit with me throughout practice in between beautiful flashbacks of a great summer with SIS. The only thing I can look forward to are those graceful words of my coach, "OUT", and the sizzle of 2 eggs over hard with cheese on the grill. I can then get on my computer and back on the forum. Something I look forward to during those dark hours of training. I also look forward to the weekend, where I may take care of my boner and drink heavily on Saturday evening. These things are nice, but nothing compared to rolling into a filled Mabel parking lot, awaiting SIS guests at my house for a rager, or the loud 200 degree drive to RC where a fire, beer, and wheeling run await accompanied by the inevitable breakdown of a vehicle and a wrench in hand.
#TheLifeOfAnNCAASwimmerWhoDoesOtherCoolShit
SIS,
I.MISS.YOU.ALL.
Vice President of Internal Affairs at Dirty Donny's House of Hookers
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