Annoyed at feeling irritated, still, from an unpleasant exchange earlier in the morning, I motioned towards the pool. And acted as if all was well. Slipped on my fins, put on my cap, and adjusted my new pair of goggles, and dove in. As I warmed up slowly, I had plenty of time to mind the grinding sensation inside my stomach. Along with the dislike, and the wishing away of the anger. Fleeting images of the one at the source. Letting them go by, making up a breathing set to help me focus. I lasted two rounds, that's it, until anger visited again. And stopped for the coach's instructions for the session. Unlike other days, when I forego difficult intervals, this time, I decided to try harder. Concentrating on the times, and the strokes, and staying in sync with the people in my lane. Next time, I checked, I noticed it had been quite a while - ten, fifteen minutes at least - since anger had visited. In between, were no thoughts, other than counting laps, and intervals between each. It is true that anger is not a solid state. Rather a juxtaposition of moments, with varying degrees of stubbornness.
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