Oh God, Shoot Me Please!

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My back feels like a piece of plywood. My legs each seem to weigh about 200 pounds. When I turn my neck the wrong way ripples of pain shoot down my spine and make my toes stand on end.

Who the hell's idea was it to play softball?

The few beers I drank after the game masked the pain just enough for me to fall asleep on the couch - at 8 PM - as though I were 80 years old and had missed my nap.

The two singles I hit weren't enough for me to ride the sport's high through even one day. I remember being in college and having to work out with my roommate's wrestling team. After a vigorous day of lifting weights I saw him in the hallway in our apartment. "If I could lift my arms," I told him. "I'd slap your face for making me work out."

Yes - my philosophy of working out has always been the same - "No pain... no pain," I believe.

We have a lot of stairs in our home. I'm writing this post just because I don't feel like falling down the stairs yet.

At least I got a text message from a friend who had also played in the game - "How sore are you?" he asked.

I answered with one word - and not just because it pained me to do the text messaging - "Brutal!"

He summed it all up best - "We should have had more beer," he replied.

Thank God I got that last at-bat out of the way - I'll leave the sports to the kids or to Lance Armstrong.

No wonder they all took steroids - I'd shotgun a vat of them right now if it would make it stop hurting.

Comments

deafjeff said…
I had to get up at 4:30 to go to work. I didn't think I was going to make it down the stairs. I played a round of golf and shot an amazing 108. At least you got two hits. I should of sat down after the second inning. I was proud of myself for not dropping any throws.
14 July, 2008
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