Lunchtime thoughts from the pool

I didn't take my bike to Cyprus, and there wasn't a suitable training pool to be found, so last week was essentially a running camp. I ran on asphalt, I ran on trail and I even did some barefoot beach laps. It's a good thing that one of the three disciples of triathlon is a portable sport, or I'd be having some serious conversations with myself about having to choose training over travel whims right about now.

Now that I'm back (and was very pleased to find that the snow melted in my absence), I have shifted my focus to riding and swimming for the week. I did a 1.5 hour tempo ride along the lakefront this morning, and then swam 3km. To my delight, I've discovered that if I go to the local pool at lunchtime, it's deserted. I've mentioned before that the Swiss are very particular about the lunch hour (businesses close, service men will not make calls and - my personal favourite - parking meters actually stop counting). While the swimming pool stays open, there is a mass exodus at precisely 11.50am, which means that if I time my workouts right, I get a lane to myself to splash around in. It also means that I have my choice of hair-drying appliances in the changing room: being small in stature, I like to use the little peoples' wall-mounted hair dryer, but do not enjoy competing with a gaggle of schoolgirls to do so as has been the case with my pre-lunch swims.

Now I'm not going to make this another Swiss-rant blog entry, but I did turn one thing over in my mind as I swam back and forth, back and forth (what do serious swimmers think about when they swim for 2-3 hours every day? My mind starts to get a little wild and crazy with the monotony of staring at the bottom of the pool). Here's that thought: in Cyprus, I noticed that lunchtime closing was in effect, but like other Mediterranean countries, shops then stay open into the early evening. In Switzerland, they close at 12.30pm (although certain stores will close at 12.15pm, which has led to many a silent rage in front of the locked doors when I have shown up at 12.20pm) and then reopen at 1.30pm or 2pm, and then promptly close at 4 or 5pm. Now, the reasoning behind lunchtime closing in warmer climates makes sense to me: the middle of the day is horribly hot and therefore unproductive. It's a time to meet with friends or go home to family to be loud and boisterous over a long lunch and then have a siesta before going back for the second half of the shift at cooler temperatures. But here in cheeseland, I can't figure out what the need is for a one-and-a-half to two-hour break when it's not a sweltering hot climate, and then opening hours are not lengthened into the evening to compensate. The loss of business that this represents in the retail sector must have a staggering impact on the economy. And I'm just not sure what the time off is being used for; this is certainty not a culture of long, loud lunches followed by Spanish-style siestas. And no errands can be run when everything else is closed, so I can only imagine that the Swiss go home to their a-frame houses and practice looking serious. In any event, I'm pleased that I've found a way to benefit from the otherwise inconvenient midday shut-down, and lunchtime just became my new swim-time.

This coming weekend brings another trip: I have successfully corralled Michael into coming to Paris for my birthday. We're certainly not lugging our bikes there and I don't plan to stare at the bottom of a pool when there are shop windows on the Champs-Élysées to stare into, so we've agreed to just take our runners. It really is a good thing that running is a portable sport.