Inquinated: a word which in this case means "unspeakably befouled with unnamed bodily fluids"
On Sunday (despite the mortal peril I placed myself in last week), I found myself back in the pool, floating on my back and flailing my way through an awkward backstroke. When I wasn’t spitting out chlorine-tained water and gasping for breath, I was busy hating the backstroke with every ounce of passion my exhausted body could conjure up.
But mixed in with the backstroke we were also doing the dolphin kick, and the dolphin kick is awesome, as these contour plots show. It’s the kick used with the butterfly stroke, which you have to admit is an awesome stroke, and one I dream fondly of learning. You know, when I have muscles and stuff.
Another highlight of the day: no leg sprints, no dizziness or nausea, and best of all, no embarrassing near-fainting episodes. It almost makes up for the 2.56 gallons of inquinated pool water I swallowed/inhaled while doing the backstroke. Things are looking up!
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