9/2/10 — It was supposed to be a post-work bit of exercise. Head to the unremarkable (by Block Island standards) beach at the south end of the town beach parking lot. Drag myself into the waves and swim — not for pleasure, necessarily, but to get the heart rate up and to stretch the dormant musculature. I brought a mask and snorkel along because, with my bum back and funky body mechanics, I would need it to breath.
Out I went. Though the waves were good, I resisted the urge to …