Um, Houston?

Whatever confidence I gained by discovering I can run farther than a tubercular goat evaporated in the pool today.

I can't swim.

Swimming is all about form, and I can't keep my face underwater. Absurd, I know, especially with spankin' new prescription swim goggles (which, in the only bright spot of today's workout, performed flawlessly). I was very much taken aback; so much so, I was out of the pool inside of 10 minutes.

"Baby steps," I said sheepishly to the lifeguard.

"That's the idea," he said.

So, taking stock at the end of Week 1: Running looks like a check -- I should be up to training level in a week. Swimming? Yergh. At best, I've got three swims a week. That's nine sessions to get to a comfortable 100 m. Which is when the real training starts.

I'm starting to side with the people who called me crazy.