God, practice was brutal tonight. My arms feel like noodles, and my upper back feels like it's in a permanent pinch. Where's my personal masseur?
We finally met our "official" coach tonight. She's about 23 and has rowed on the national team. I liked her.
Why?
She was wearing a Dylan T-shirt. Her parents must be into Bob.
2 comments:
mmmmm - will you still like her when she's putting you through all that rowing-type pain??
Probably. And yet I'm not a masochist per se. Go figure.
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