1 pool = 34 feet.

Therefore, 1 mile = 155 laps in the pool.

Tonight, I did 40. With breaks. I'm going to need a lot of practice.

The sprint triathlon only has a half-mile swim, but I'm trying to train for more than is necessary. I've been consistently running more than the 3 miles (5K) and biking more than the 12.5 miles (20K) in the race. Combining them will be the key, but I'm not going to start doing that until after I get back from vacation.

The weather isn't going to stay as warm as it has been through the week, so I've been in the pool as much as possible. I hopped in right after dinner and started swimming laps.

The swimming is more tiring than biking or running, but I think that's just because I'm not as used to it. It took a while to get the breathing right, but once I got into a groove, it wasn't too bad.

Living with Mom sometimes has its drawbacks. Whenever I would stop for a minute, I'd hear a little voice coming down from the kitchen window, "I don't hear anybody swimming laps!"

Mom's a riot. Sometimes, I could just strangle her.

The kids stopped by when Chris brought over some company paperwork, and they encouraged me in the way that only 9 year olds can. "I wanna get in the pool," each one would say in turn. "I can help you swim!"

I'm sure they could have. Nothing helps with swimming laps like three kids playing with pool noodles. Actually, I wouldn't have minded having them in the pool as well, but Chris was recovering from a stomach virus and wanted to get back home soon. They splashed their feet in the water and pouted when it was time to go home.

Once everyone was gone, I concentrated on a few more laps, then I decided I'd had enough exercise for the day (5 miles on the treadmill), and sacked out on the comfy chair for the rest of the night.

Well, until Skottie decided that it was time to go for our nightly walk. We went the short route today (up one hill and down another), and that was enough to wear him out.

With everything that went on concerning Jayce's death, I've found myself in an interesting situation. Since our suicide attempts (his successful, mine not) were essentially the same, a number of people have asked me why Jayce did it; what was going through his mind.

I don't have those answers. I can only tell my own story, and I have no idea if it's a common one. I think the medications played a huge role in my own decision-making process, and I know there are as many stories as there are attempts.

I want to do something to help people understand the reasons why some people make the ultimate choice to take their lives. Since we cannot communicate with those who didn't make it through, I'm actively seeking people who are willing to talk (possibly at length) about their own suicide attempts. What made you do it? What were you thinking at the moment you thought was your last? How do you feel about it today?

There are many more questions to ask; stories to put into an evening. I want to make this a theater project, but not for fame or for money, but to answer the questions of those left behind, those who are still dealing with the ramifications of what they (almost) did, and those who might be thinking about suicide themselves (who might find a reason to keep on going).

If you have a story you're willing to share, e-mail me and let me know you're interested. It's going to be an intensive project, and you may be dealing with actors who want to get to know you (the actors will be portraying those people who have volunteered their stories).

It's a lot to ask, and if you want to share, please do. If it's too much to ask of you, don't even give it a second thought. I don't want to bring up memories that will be harmful to you.

I hope this will be a worthwhile project on many levels.

This isn't my only theater project. I have a couple of irons in the fire, and I'm writing quite a bit, but I think this one is going to be the most fulfilling this year.

And with that, I'm off to the blissful air conditioning and some sleep.