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Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Life may end at 32

I played baseball from when I was 7 years old up until about 24 or so. I thought softball would be an easy transition. I forgot that I hadn't done anything remotely athletic in the last 8 years, however.
Someone kill me. Please. My company had our first softball games last night. I felt good on the field, and on the bases. I played short stop (I'm coming for you, Gooz!) so I had a lot of cut off throws, on top of the 8 or so throws to first. I noticed my arm starting to hurt last night around 8:30.
If I had a machete in my night stand, I may have used it this morning. To cut my head off. Oh. My. Fucking. God. I've never been this sore in my life. It took me 20 minutes to get out of bed, I shit you not. I had a hard time lifting my foot off the gas and brake pedals this morning. My shoulder is searing right now. I have a meeting at 10, and I'm not sure I'll be able to take notes.
So, it appears humans lose the ability to recuperate around year 32. It also didn't help that the most athletic feats I've done in the last 8 years has been lifting beer to mouth, climbing my stairs to take a whiz (more on that at another time, but, seriously..what dick face decided to build a 2 story town home with no bathroom on the bottom floor? Asshole!), and playing fetch with the mutts once a month.
Let's just say, I now have a new found respect for LoDu. He's gotta keep banging all them 19 year olds so he won't wake up like me every morning.

3 comments:

Puttzy said...

at least you quit smoking. . . .right? Maybe you should train to run with RJ.

Rebecca said...

That, my friend Puttzy, is a great idea.

The Doctor said...

I once saw Gavin run like a deer across a parking lot in a garage at White Flint. So fast, so nimble, so graceful. He was also blind drunk.