Manual For Nordictrack U300

The expert nuotarore

last few days I go in the pool and I looked around ... We are the losers side of the tanks, "and that marson does water aerobics, "the lifeguards (with special respect for those" peoci "that is shaved in our dialect), and finally him: the legendary swimmers. The swimmers did not sandals, but shoes that are a perfect fit with a pool that allows him sure-footed and dancing by the pool is not a false trail of legs like a penguin on oil. The expert swimmer and is now entering the shower, so that each drop can slide over his body and carved in the water, smiles at lifeguards and pretends to gaurdarsi around, already knowing that the female hormone is throbbing in the air as women pretend to get glasses and headphones attached. (We also do us mortals, but sadly only find seas of cellulite ... goes well, but we want more: life is not baywatch everyone knows!). The swimmer has a slippin that's not the one to € 3.99 in the decathlon, but a serious thing, something signed if not the swim team's pool, a slippin that not only is a glove for private parts, but a kind of marker for the male genitalia. (I quietly got engaged to a young lady, do not be alarmed). The swimmers do not have hair, her hairless body will not let her, maybe you can find something in the nose and somewhere else, but nothing on the chest. The expert swimmer plunges into advertising as raising only a few squirt of water, not like ordinary mortals who use the ladder dive to the side or sitting by the pool as a container crashed into the ocean, the swimmers is "Pluff" and not "spaciaff Ciaffa. The swimmers prefer the center lane, into the water and grind metodocità tanks with a blacksmith during the Crusades: continuous, rhythmic, almost monotonous. The expert swimmer is not breathing: it has gills just behind the ears, he can not afford to have two tanks and breathe heavily on the lower side of the pool, perhaps by exploiting the scalinetto. The expert swimmer occhiletti not tarnish even if never enter into a sauna or drinking tea in a mountain, his glasses are fleeing any change in temperature. The expert swimmer you press if you are slower than him, surpassing sideways, down, up, walking backwards on to a lane and sometimes smoking a cigarette in apnea. So has the gills. The swimmers made the turn at the end of the pool and does not leave you time to copy it: he is already in the blue flags. The swimmers do not say anything if you can see immediately that the grace of an anvil in the water for swimming and buoyancy of a diver's lead belt, and ignores you directly with the evolution of all styles impeccable makes you weigh . Sometimes they invent new ones to play or habit. The swimmers do not join with valuables. The swimmers are able to do a hundred tanks drinking spritz from a variety of bath and the other, the best spit the olive pit by a part and, after a stroke, recovered with the last breath before you turn. The swimmers talk only with other swimmers, and only and exclusively of crap jokes or inexperienced swimmers who use the floating pink sausage (is what we all, at least once, we used as a phallic gag with friends). I am not an expert swimmer, I do indeed look like a frog and endangered species and my style is so free so free, which some say "but you do frog e. .. e. ..." and I "cringling. Of course, all do not understand a damn thing, but enough to lsciarli eating flies for a while '!
I enter a bomb in the pool, try to beat my record of 35 tanks (70 CIOA! Not scappellato are so!), when I leave the lineup to catch the breath to sound a false thin ... But it's sooo hard. I am not an expert swimmer, but I do with those two lines of my lane, I have fun and relax and I almost like it !.... Too bad you can not order the mojito!
L.

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ANGER

The anger that bites me, the anger that follows me, the anger that follows me and it hurts because it falls just rough drafts. It 'just fight for what you want, because it makes you desire things get under your skin, it does not matter if the result is, it only matters how you get wheels. Even the dress seems tailor-made experience, but because only those around you seem to have things and you can loose in the facility and to achieve the same happiness you always have to lift weights too large to climb walls of which the end is the same as the reflection of the sun? Why this anger mounts in a sunny day in which all the colors have a good mood, in which the rains just seem strange memories, perhaps if someone has invented. Just anger and rage, which encloses the stomach, which makes you a bad day with everything and everyone, that takes away the desire to do things, that takes away the spirit of "ok, go." But so much is just a mix bitumen with the ugly thoughts that become black feathers that are not low-cut more ... Meanwhile, I look to the horizon and do not see it. Damn contraption of metal deceive me close, I want to be the magic wand, what I would like to take me back to days or even weeks later, just to get this down time, in which there is no wind to power, there is no flower for butterflies, there is no sound in the wind. Just anger, because the distance can easily mix, can make you live, but if it is capricious know hurt you. Anger, like a train that choose not to have more tracks and, thanks to its speed without rules or limits, you know just go ahead, the impact ready with a smile, ready to loud noises that generate more noise, humor and love . I try to cast venting anger all letters on this keyboard, since even cigarettes and the like make me more peace relegated taste it in my daily useless (thankfully). Anger that I try to defeat the illusion of being a cold shower on a hot day ... but if you do not help me with the words, but if you do not put smiles and props of suffering, how do you send away this anger? The gate? I close? Despairs of routine, easy despairs that close in a few hours of distraction, to count the hours and weeks before you arrive or before you get to me. Things change when you want it. Yes, it's true and believe it. But it is also the rule that things change when you can, when they decide want to be changed. E 'lontanza that takes my happiness of your outline, so sometime in the empty basket of my day is just anger.

L.