I started going to the gym once again after a prolonged absence. Or, as I prefer to think of it, time to heal. I’ve had a pretty easy 34 years, except where sports related injuries are concerned. It seems that whenever I get myself into a groove physically (going to the gym, playing soccer, random games of chicken with freight trains), something comes along and derails me.

 

Six months ago I stopped playing indoor soccer. I’d love to tell you it was because my level of play was too high for those around me to keep up, but that’s not even close. I got hurt. We were playing our last game of the season, and the other team was in the process of slowly eroding our will to live. I’ve lost games before; I’ll lose more games in the future. But this was getting ridiculous. We were down 14-2 to a bunch of guys ten years younger who got off on eliciting yelps from the geriatrics on our team. With less than a minute to go, their big man (think Ivan Drago from Rocky IV) followed me to the wall. I slid the ball to my left, out of his way and down the field. The play moved on, but Ivan Drago thought it would be funny to slam me into the wall. I know that he found this amusing, because after I collapsed to the turf in a puddle of goo, he chuckled at me, then left to bash our goalkeeper’s head in. I’m not kidding.

 

Which brings me to the point of this little entry. If you are young, and fit, and heal rapidly, please please please do not take out your hormonal excesses on those of us that do not. Thank you. We now return you to your regularly scheduled broadcast...

 

Meanwhile, I’m off to the gym.