Wow. So to preface this story, I need to take you all on a little journey into my past. Pretend that I am the ghost of Christmas past, and instead of coming to haunt you, I'm actually just taking myself back in time-(only I'm also bringing a webcam and you just happen to be watching from your living rooms). Growing up, I was always fairly tall, but my metabolism was always running at such a freakish rate, that I never really "filled into my body" until my mission (at which time, my body decided to make up for lost time and poor on the weight, but that's another story). I enjoyed an active lifestyle as a kid. I didn't have a "gaming system" so most of my time was spent walking to and from school, playing sports, roller blading, roller blading to play sports, etcetera etcetera etcetera. In High School, I was in really good shape, with Soccer, running from bullies, getting cut from the basketball team, those sorts of things. I thought I had a six pack, but then realized in was more of a 4 pack with an exposed Rib Cage on top. Prior to entering the mission field I spent my freshman year of college staying in shape by walking to and from campus (when I had occasion to get to class that is) and honing my bball skills in the Richards Building. The Metabolism was still going strong entering my 19th year on this earth. Regardless, I was still a lanky 165 lb-6 footer. After my mission I returned to my "active lifestyle" after a rec center basketball injury brought on a hellish 6 weeks of crutches, gangrene, and physical therapy. The only difference is that I was now a 205 lb-6 foot dough boy. Well, thanks to a reunion with my friends and the Richards Building, as well as a return diet of Ramen Noodles, Crystal Light and Betos, I began to lose the mission weight and the part in my hair (also a different story). In the five years since returning home, I have remained as active as possible, but something has changed. My body doesn't seem to withstand 3, 4, and 5 hours of sport at one time as it did in the past. My body doesn't react well when I go out and run without stretching as it did in the past. And my four pack with ribs, has been replaced with a mini-keg and stretch marks (ok, that's a slight exaggeration, but not by much). Ahh, the ghost of Christmas past is a cruel cruel spirit.
Anyway, fast forward to tonight...well, lets start at last night anyway. Last night, I drove home from work, helped my sister put her tree up, washed the sap off of my body, and put on my running clothes. Then I turned my tv on to confirm I was DVR-ing Rules of Engagement and Sing Off. bad idea. Once I saw Sing Off had started, I was drawn in. I sat down for the first song, telling myself I would go running after the opening number....2 hours later, Groove For Thought was singing their Swan Song, and I was replacing my running clothes with pajamas. "well, I'll just try again tomorrow"
Today I was determined to run. I got home from work, went to pga tour superstore to check out some demo clubs, and returned home to "get fit". The following entry is of my exercise adventure...
I had previously mapped out a 2 mile course around my neighborhood. I thought two miles was a tad ambitious given my lack of activity in the last month (I pulled my groin in a Softball Tournament early November, and hadn't tested it since). Me running two miles could be likened to Jaba the Hut Clean & Pressing Han Solo 3 sets, 10 reps each. But I am an ambitious guy, so I thought I'd give it a try.
It actually started ok. I jogged the whole first mile. once I made the turn, I walked for half a mile, then decided to sprint the last 1/2 mile. after about 20 yards of sprinting, I started to dry heave in someones front yard-held it in-recomposed myself, and decided Sprinting was a little to serious at this juncture in my re-kindled relationship with Exercise. So I took the last stretch at what can only be described as a wounded gallop. The last 100 yards weren't pretty, but I finished. From the looks of my body language, you would think that I was a) finishing the last 1/4 mile of a Marathon or b) Humping down the Ho Chi Minh Trail with a fallen comrade over my shoulder and Charlie descending on me something fierce. Either way, it wasn't graceful. After a short blackout on my front lawn, I regained consciousness and thought back on the last 2 miles of my life. And, to be honest, I learned a few things on my run. You see, at the first half mile point there is a busy intersection, with a large public park on one side, and residences on the other. As I approached the intersection, there were a long line of cars cruising by, with some turning to enter the park. People were all around, some playing volley ball, some having Softball Practice, and a few kids Skateboarding in the parking lot. As I waited to cross the street, I did what I had seen thousands of other joggers do at similar intersections across the west. I kept jogging in place, and while placing my index and middle fingers against my throat, I looked at my left wrist and took my pulse. The only problem is I didn't have a watch on. I was missing one of the key elements to taking a pulse, and yet I was still jogging in place, going through the motions. Upon my realization that I was without a time piece, I slowly turned my head behind me to see if any of the Volleyball participants had noticed my miscue. Thankfully none of them had, so I waited for one more car to pass, and crossed the street. As I turned up the street, directly in front of me I noticed a car parked facing the direction I had just come from. Then, to my horror, I noticed that two people were sitting in the car talking. from the looks on their faces as I walked by (I was no longer jogging at this point), they clearly had seen me on the opposite corner from their car, and were no doubtingly laughing at my attempt to take my pulse without a watch, and my head turn to see if anyone had noticed. I'm glad I could make their night. But I was to preoccupied to dwell on a mildly embarrassing moment. so I continued on my way, but not without making a new years resolution to buy a watch. The next thing I learned was that Christmas is a good time to jog in Arizona. 1- it was 70 degrees outside, so the weather was perfect for running. 2-it's Christmas time, so all the houses are lit up, and jogging gives me a chance to not only become healthier, but also enjoy the lights around the neighborhood. Also, being that it's Christmas time, people are naturally in better moods, and thus aren't as mad when you throw up in their "Desert North Pole" scene. Thirdly, I learned that jogging with music is so much nicer than without it. My ipod broke a while ago, and so I ran tonight without any music to 1-pump me up and 2-help my keep pace. another adverse affect of not listening to music, is that I have to rely on Songs that are in my head. And, for some reason, no matter how many awesome Christmas Songs I hear during the day, the one that always pops into my mind when nothing else is on is "Baby it's Cold Outside." Which isn't a horrible song, but definitely not my favorite (especially after a friend gave me a rather peculiar hidden meaning about the song). So, getting some jogging music together is definitely high on my priorities list right now. My jog finished with a classical encounter with 2 members of our fine "elderly community" here in Gilbert. I was a block from home, and I could feel my body begin to question my decision to go for two miles without any warm up. my rhythmic jog had turned into something similar to the scene from Jurassic Park one, when the little boy is running from the Raptors, and his leg is busted up, so He's limping along at a brisk pace, but his posture is still really good (it's a classic visual, I recommend re-watching the movie when you have a chance, John Williams did an amazing job with the musical score as usual). Anyway, I approach the last intersection and a car comes right up to the curb next to me and stops. I figured they were either someone I knew (which isn't really anybody but my family, so I ruled that out quickly), or someone that wanted to do a wellness check on me, because they probably felt I had been stabbed by the belabored body language I was showing just to keep my body moving in a forward direction. So I stop and turn to let them know that I'm actually not suffering from any immediate medical crisis and they can go about their day, when the guest waves at me. I then assume they are wanting to turn right at the intersection and they are waving me to go ahead and cross. I then wave back to them to go ahead and turn (at this point I had stopped running completely, and I figured that walking was the only way I was going to make it home, so what's the rush?). The older gentleman in the driver's seat then leaned across his wife and waved again. So I took a step toward the car thinking that he must be waving for me to come over (probably to give directions or give jogging tips or something). He then waves more emphatically, and now I'm confused- does this guy want me to cross? Does he want directions? Does he want my autograph? What?? So I step a little closer to the car to see if I can help in some way, and then realize that he was waving neither for me to come over nor to cross the street. He was just waving me out of the way. Apparently I was standing in his line of site from his car to the street sign he was looking at. And me walking toward him, just made the obstruction larger and the guy more frustrated. So he just stepped on the gas and turned the corner in disgust, leaving me standing there contemplating the events of the previous 2 minutes. I shrugged to myself and walked into the house. Immediately upon entrance to the house, I went to the fridge to hydrate. I opened the fridge to look for a gallon of water, but instead found egg nog (not the best for a post cardio workout), milk, apple juice and a bottle of wine with a cork screw poking out of it...don't worry it's not what you think! My sister is using it for a sweet Fish Recipe. Funny story about the wine though. So I borrowed a cork screw from the hotel, but instead of borrowing one of our nice ones, I picked up one of our small, plain cork screws. So the problem is with the standard cork screw, is that it doesn't have the lever that will raise the cork up out of the bottle. Instead it works purely on your own strength to get the cork out. I happened to have a rather embarrassing moment a couple years ago, opening a bottle of wine for a guest in their room, and between that, and the fact that I don't use cork screws very often, I am having the darnedest time opening this bottle of wine. I have the cork screw in the cork, but I can not get it to budge. the other day, I was trying to open it so we could have some fish, but not wanting to break the cork into pieces, and also not wanting to spill all over myself, I was relegated to leaving the cork screw in the bottle, and heading into work. We haven't had time to do the fish yet, which is good, because I currently have no idea how I'm going to open the bottle...
