Wednesday, October 22, 2008

On Two-Years Rest . . . again

I haven't been much for blogging the last few days, so I'm going with the ultimate cop-out - a re-post. (is that a word?) In the spirit of self-deprecation (the opposite of what we here from our humble presidential candidates) I give you this post from Dec 8, 2006:

So a few days ago I went and tried, stressing that word, to play full-court basketball for the first time in a long while. Going in there with almost two year's rest I assumed I'd totally dominate. Actually, I set the bar a little lower - being able to walk again within 3-4 days would be a stunning success, but I was content with survival. I stretched and jogged around a little bit before we started - this part went marvelously. I even made a few shots in the warm up. Then we began . . . Now let me say in all fairness, I can do 3-4 miles on the treadmill without much struggle, it's not like I'm totally hopeless or anything. But after roughly 2 minutes of play, all of my cells, except for 3 or 4 of 'em, were on fire. I was huffing and puffing so hard I was afraid I was gonna do structural damage to the building. At one point the guy I was guarding got an outlet pass and went flying down the court towards his goal. Now I knew exactly what I needed to do, I just needed to run him down and get in front of him. He had a little head start, but I knew I could catch him . . . At least my mind knew it. With literally no one around me I took two quick steps towards him . . . I was off to the races, or so I thought. Then, like some kind of drunk panda bear, the top half of my body kept moving in the direction I wanted it to, but the feet were quite content to be stationary. I fell flat on my face at midcourt, skidded to an ugly halt, and my guy scored. A thing of beauty. It's rough to spontaneously fall down on your face, all alone, for no apparent reason. All the guys were good enough to not say anything to me about it, but there was no need - any semblance of pride in my hoops prowess is gone. I'll keep going back though. The moral of the story: I should've probably stretched more or at least have worn protective gear with an oxygen mask.


rlsecor said...

I see that no one knows what to say - but anyone who is self deprecating should not have comment-less blog posts.

Are you missing basketball? or Did you try to play again?

Is the basketball story just an analogy - representing some other struggle? Or... are you home sick?

Oh blimey - I was just going to try to remember something from Seminary but I can't remember the teachers name. Sister Beer, Bowl, B something or other you'll probably know it.

Just remember your standards: read, pray, go to church and I personally always write to get all the crap out of my head. You need it all the more when you are knee deep.

You haven't even told us if you finally made it through immigration or not!

Keep swimmin' dude!

HTF said...

Hey there, rlsecor. Thanks for the mega comment! Oh I did get back to playing basketball, but that first time back was obviously no picnic. I appreciate the insight on dealing with the not-so-fun separation. The seminary teacher you're trying to remember was Sis Beardall - she was awesome! Past away a few years back.
Oh yeah, and I did somehow survive immigration, but (and I'm not making this up) my passport is now at the Brazilian consulate in Houston, so if anyone questions my American-ness, I'm in trouble again.
I'll keep up the doggy paddle!

aubri said...

Ah, sorry- I'm on a taped delay again & it just registered. BRAZIL? I'm jealous!

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