Reason for optimism
I just leaned against the handlebars of my bike at a traffic light. The pain that's taken flight since Saturday, the pain that's sent me in a downward spiral of 2007, the pain that's not even that bad except that it prevents me from going to play Ultimate, is in a different spot.
There's no guarantee that this means I'm ok. There's no way for me to know if I can work this pain out and get back to playing after a week of vacation. The only thing I know is that for a moment, I have hope. I'm going to try and work this out. I'm going to hope that I can get back to playing. I'm going to eschew pain and emerge victorious.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Tough day for psoas, decent day for Ultimate
I didn't take time to work out much this past week and I may be paying the price. As my team, Casual Encounters, warmed up yesterday for our one day tournament in Catonsville, I could feel my psoas start to act out. I'd warmed up extra and I thought I was managing it, but yesterday it struck back early. When caught nursing my side with a pained look on my face, I confessed that I may not be quite as ready to play as usual. I could feel pain in my groin. Last time groin pain led to an inability to change direction. It's tough to compete in Ultimate without being able to change direction.
I worked on it on the sidelines as the first game started. I decided it was ok to play and got in a few points. For some reason, and I don't think it was my psoas, our offensive cutters were in the way of one another, me included. It was chaos and fairly frustrating. We still seemed to be hanging around in the game, but we never really challenged the other team. I think I managed to catch a deep score and float a score to Fox, but I don't remember much else beyond the cutting turmoil. My psoas didn't get worse.
Our second game was against the one seed and likely the sectional favorite- Grey. They are athletic and have good throws. I was told I would be mostly sitting in hopes that we could mount a stronger attack in the third game. We were getting beat soundly, but we were fighting hard. The offense started to clean up a bit and everyone was competing. I did manage to get in a few points and make some things happen. I took one cut deep and got a floaty huck from Bruce Wayne. My defender made up the ground on me and a help defender caught up as well. As the three of us ran to position ourselves for the slicing disc to come down, I'm told that my defender uncoiled and began to leap after the disc, but instead he slammed into his teammate. I took a few steps away from the pile and pulled down the score. I played some solid defense against a guy who was running all over the field. He didn't get the disc, but my teammates took delight in telling me that his approach was what it felt like covering me. I just said something to the effect of, "That's exhausting."
My play of the day that wasn't quite, happened late in this game on an in cut across the field. With my defender's hand almost on mine and some contact, I snagged a disc across my body and high with a step in bounds before being slammed to the ground. I popped up, to the surprise of my defender who thought he got the D, came back in bounds, pivoted and got fouled, had a zero stall count when I saw Gersh going deep. From the sideline I put up a beauty of a huck that went about 55 yards just out of bounds and with a slight outside in that managed to come back in bounds and just glanced off Gersh's outstretched hand. It's one of my best throws in recent memory.
I believe that was one of only two of my turnovers. The other was a short flick that floated a bit high on me and bounced off Heather's hand. I played less, but I still hope this is a start of a new trend.
The third game was another that we seemed in, but just weren't. Our defensive lines aren't scoring. We're just trading unforced (and sometimes forced) errors. I remember one point where it took us three chances to get into the end zone. We started to see some better handler movement in the third game. I had a decent offensive performance. I got one huck off the brick. My defender was in front of me and there was no help back, so I just took off. The offense seemed to be flowing better and there were a few points that we just marched right up the field. The only problem was that Hyperbole did the same to us. I did get at least one other deep grab. I was wide open and the disc was trailing away. I tracked it down in the back corner of the end zone and left the field fired up saying, "Come on! We can do what we want!" I really think that team is beatable, but we've got more to work on before we get there.
The fourth game was against a tired Dirty People team. Zone defenses were exchanged, but we eventually seemed to wear them down to get a win! By the end it felt like we were running them ragged. It was nice to get a win. That's only my second with the team. I'm looking forward to more. Hope my psoas agrees.
I didn't take time to work out much this past week and I may be paying the price. As my team, Casual Encounters, warmed up yesterday for our one day tournament in Catonsville, I could feel my psoas start to act out. I'd warmed up extra and I thought I was managing it, but yesterday it struck back early. When caught nursing my side with a pained look on my face, I confessed that I may not be quite as ready to play as usual. I could feel pain in my groin. Last time groin pain led to an inability to change direction. It's tough to compete in Ultimate without being able to change direction.
I worked on it on the sidelines as the first game started. I decided it was ok to play and got in a few points. For some reason, and I don't think it was my psoas, our offensive cutters were in the way of one another, me included. It was chaos and fairly frustrating. We still seemed to be hanging around in the game, but we never really challenged the other team. I think I managed to catch a deep score and float a score to Fox, but I don't remember much else beyond the cutting turmoil. My psoas didn't get worse.
Our second game was against the one seed and likely the sectional favorite- Grey. They are athletic and have good throws. I was told I would be mostly sitting in hopes that we could mount a stronger attack in the third game. We were getting beat soundly, but we were fighting hard. The offense started to clean up a bit and everyone was competing. I did manage to get in a few points and make some things happen. I took one cut deep and got a floaty huck from Bruce Wayne. My defender made up the ground on me and a help defender caught up as well. As the three of us ran to position ourselves for the slicing disc to come down, I'm told that my defender uncoiled and began to leap after the disc, but instead he slammed into his teammate. I took a few steps away from the pile and pulled down the score. I played some solid defense against a guy who was running all over the field. He didn't get the disc, but my teammates took delight in telling me that his approach was what it felt like covering me. I just said something to the effect of, "That's exhausting."
My play of the day that wasn't quite, happened late in this game on an in cut across the field. With my defender's hand almost on mine and some contact, I snagged a disc across my body and high with a step in bounds before being slammed to the ground. I popped up, to the surprise of my defender who thought he got the D, came back in bounds, pivoted and got fouled, had a zero stall count when I saw Gersh going deep. From the sideline I put up a beauty of a huck that went about 55 yards just out of bounds and with a slight outside in that managed to come back in bounds and just glanced off Gersh's outstretched hand. It's one of my best throws in recent memory.
I believe that was one of only two of my turnovers. The other was a short flick that floated a bit high on me and bounced off Heather's hand. I played less, but I still hope this is a start of a new trend.
The third game was another that we seemed in, but just weren't. Our defensive lines aren't scoring. We're just trading unforced (and sometimes forced) errors. I remember one point where it took us three chances to get into the end zone. We started to see some better handler movement in the third game. I had a decent offensive performance. I got one huck off the brick. My defender was in front of me and there was no help back, so I just took off. The offense seemed to be flowing better and there were a few points that we just marched right up the field. The only problem was that Hyperbole did the same to us. I did get at least one other deep grab. I was wide open and the disc was trailing away. I tracked it down in the back corner of the end zone and left the field fired up saying, "Come on! We can do what we want!" I really think that team is beatable, but we've got more to work on before we get there.
The fourth game was against a tired Dirty People team. Zone defenses were exchanged, but we eventually seemed to wear them down to get a win! By the end it felt like we were running them ragged. It was nice to get a win. That's only my second with the team. I'm looking forward to more. Hope my psoas agrees.
Friday, June 24, 2011
From home
"Work is what you do, not where you go." Isn't that how the argument for teleworking goes? I'm hesitant to mix my office life with my home life. I go by different names at home and at the office. What if I don't recognize myself?
This week as the offices on my floor were swapped like trading cards, although I'm fairly certain nobody snagged two offices for a McGwire rookie card, I ended up at the desk in my living room doing work.
I pushed back the piles of home, the various notebooks and paperweights that frame my iMac, and I created space to function. Work felt more like art in that moment. I needed surface area to think. The trappings of work, the various grants and manuals filled the recently cleared section of wood, and spilled out into the room. I worked in relative quiet and calm. I worked with focus and purpose.
For a while.
I checked email. I wandered to the fridge. I listened to the songs on iTunes that have been silent since '08. The distractions of home were more complete. Even the Internet at home offered escape unlike the Internet at the office. The guilt free breaks were real and left me ready to return to the projects at hand in full force.
Without the distraction of getting to the office or getting home, I found that I was driven. This was a blessing and a curse yesterday. It meant that I didn't want to stop, I wanted to finish. Only practice could shake me from the work I was doing. My desire to complete was only usurped by a desire to compete, or at least the desire to show up to my previous commitment.
It may have been the new environment that helped propel me. A little off balance, I became more alert and more productive. The jolt may have been short-lived as the pull of the weekend started to wear on me today. I'm off balance in other ways too. My bladder is full from all the water I'm drinking, but my desire to exercise has been minimal. It's as if pitched from my routine, I'd rather gather moss than roll stones.
The moral of this story seems to be about the ebb and flow of productivity and distraction, about the advantages of both the habitual rhythms of life and the kick of falling off that rolling sine wave.
"Work is what you do, not where you go." Isn't that how the argument for teleworking goes? I'm hesitant to mix my office life with my home life. I go by different names at home and at the office. What if I don't recognize myself?
This week as the offices on my floor were swapped like trading cards, although I'm fairly certain nobody snagged two offices for a McGwire rookie card, I ended up at the desk in my living room doing work.
I pushed back the piles of home, the various notebooks and paperweights that frame my iMac, and I created space to function. Work felt more like art in that moment. I needed surface area to think. The trappings of work, the various grants and manuals filled the recently cleared section of wood, and spilled out into the room. I worked in relative quiet and calm. I worked with focus and purpose.
For a while.
I checked email. I wandered to the fridge. I listened to the songs on iTunes that have been silent since '08. The distractions of home were more complete. Even the Internet at home offered escape unlike the Internet at the office. The guilt free breaks were real and left me ready to return to the projects at hand in full force.
Without the distraction of getting to the office or getting home, I found that I was driven. This was a blessing and a curse yesterday. It meant that I didn't want to stop, I wanted to finish. Only practice could shake me from the work I was doing. My desire to complete was only usurped by a desire to compete, or at least the desire to show up to my previous commitment.
It may have been the new environment that helped propel me. A little off balance, I became more alert and more productive. The jolt may have been short-lived as the pull of the weekend started to wear on me today. I'm off balance in other ways too. My bladder is full from all the water I'm drinking, but my desire to exercise has been minimal. It's as if pitched from my routine, I'd rather gather moss than roll stones.
The moral of this story seems to be about the ebb and flow of productivity and distraction, about the advantages of both the habitual rhythms of life and the kick of falling off that rolling sine wave.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Catch the windy spirit and they'll badger you to return
I like to start a vacation with a wedding. There's nothing like lifelong commitment to make a man appreciate a week off from work. This wasn't just any wedding either. This was one of those love stories for the ages. This was an engagement documented heavily on youtube and celebrated for all time or at least a week.
Excuse me, I'll take a break from the wedding to get the cynical fly out of my love stew.
I was in Chicago with C. We were crashing with friends S and A in their new and beautiful home on the Chicago river. The weather wasn't very cooperative and they were entertaining other friends that weekend as well. It rained. There was ping-pong, some bird-feeding, a scrumptious little brunch, and a lot of scrawled notes and missed connections. If it hadn't been a year or two since we'd seen this crowd, I could have sworn that we'd seen them last week and would see them again in a month. Time would play fast and loose like that all week. We bounced in and out of old friends lives. Heck we'd cleared three FARCers before we even got to the wedding.
Speaking of the wedding, I'm back and ready to appreciate the event fully. In case you're counting, and I was, I think this puts me at 25 weddings attended since high school. I'm a fan of weddings and as we approached the interesting venue Salvage One and saw the groomsmen in the street I got excited. (I actually got excited when I put on my tie, but come on, how vain is that?)
Not to worry, the groomsmen weren't playing in traffic. It was a photo shoot. Salvage One is an architectural salvage store. A more accomplished writer with a better memory could describe the venue better, but the foosball table with wooden players was in the back, the giant chandeliers with film strip piping were near the makeshift bar, and the pews were for sale. The wedding itself was a quick event, as my sophomore year roommate wed his high school girlfriend in this the later round of their love. They'd worked hard to get to this point and they knocked out some nice vows, kissed, and sent us upstairs to eat and party.
The reception was gorgeous. The event planner now wife and the art director now husband had their personality seeping throughout and their personalities clearly have class. At least until you view the photo booth pictures. Their DJ was dancing to her own beats. It made me consider a new career while I danced along. The bride and grooms' friends had moves. As we age, I think more people are realizing that they can dance. I went for quantity, because if you can't out-move them, out-move them, if you know what I'm saying. You don't? Well, man the groom's grandma had dance moves like you would not believe. It's a good thing somebody pulled her to the bar before she started planking.
Five FARCers down and Chicago's in the rear view mirror. Madison, WI, we're coming for you. First, we stopped for dinner in a town that seemed to be a series of streets plopped down on a field. We'd visit C's Wisconsin study abroad pals and find her sport, cornhole. And on to Madison.
Madison was so quiet because that very day the Wisconsin college Ultimate team lost in the National finals. C assured me that wasn't the case. Maybe school was out. Maybe the protesters at the state capitol were tired. Maybe no one could believe that we were staying in a hotel. Don't worry, it was only for one night. Madison was sixth street for us. We seemed lost without a tour guide. Even when we enlisted the help of another FARCer, Jenn, over drinks, we just couldn't seem to find our footing as we rambled on B-cycles not unlike the Capital Bikeshare in DC, away from the lake and onto the trail that looked not unlike MKT. Madison to us may have been a collection of places we'd already been.
It may have been the siren call of Fond du Lac that had us distracted. M, K, and their children left the DC area about a year ago and now finally we got to see them again. Their children were bundles of energy. They probably had half the energy in Fond du Lac. I believe M called it a suburb without a big city. I'm pretty sure it had a Wal-Mart. We spent two quiet, other than the sometimes screaming kids, days in Fond du Lac and it reminded me why I love those cats. Bouncing through the playgrounds and chatting at the kitchen table I could have been 18 or 80 and I think I'd still like being around M and K. Those kids are pretty awesome too. They wanted to be tossed, turned, twirled as much as energy would allow. I tried walking lunges and squats, but their turn as dumbbells only seemed to tire me out and leave them wanting more. We even got in a little disc throwing from 5 feet apart. Fond du lac should definitely be closer.
It is closer to Milwaukee and our next stop on the trip. I slept while C drove. This was a vacation pattern that seemed to work heavily in my favor. Another pattern heavily in my favor, was that C let me pick a lot of our activities. We toured the Pabst mansion (that Pabst, of Pabst brewing, did you know he had a mansion? And some seriously interesting germanic tastes? Whoa. Also, servants quarters. Get some.) We had lunch at the Milwaukee market in the historic third ward where the advertising museum has been closed for several years, but the building is for sale in case you're interested. We then made our way to N and J's home for another bout of guest rooming. N and J were excellent hosts and let us bask in the glory of Clifford the Big Red Dog and Elmo. There daughter E may have factored heavily in those television choices.
When Clifford and Elmo were off, we spent our daylight at the Milwaukee art museum, the Lakefront brewery tour, and hanging out in the yard as N checked her veggies. We spent an evening at a gallery viewing too. I can't remember what Alice Cooper said about Milwaukee in Wayne's World, but I can almost guarantee he was right. And then the vacation got real. How do I know? The hosts got a baby sitter to go out on Friday night. I don't know what the going rate for baby sitters is, but I know that N and J got their money's worth. Or I got their money's worth. Or somebody got some money's worth. Look over there- bratwurst. Yum.
10 FARCers in all. Only 217 Facebook friends to go.
I like to start a vacation with a wedding. There's nothing like lifelong commitment to make a man appreciate a week off from work. This wasn't just any wedding either. This was one of those love stories for the ages. This was an engagement documented heavily on youtube and celebrated for all time or at least a week.
Excuse me, I'll take a break from the wedding to get the cynical fly out of my love stew.
I was in Chicago with C. We were crashing with friends S and A in their new and beautiful home on the Chicago river. The weather wasn't very cooperative and they were entertaining other friends that weekend as well. It rained. There was ping-pong, some bird-feeding, a scrumptious little brunch, and a lot of scrawled notes and missed connections. If it hadn't been a year or two since we'd seen this crowd, I could have sworn that we'd seen them last week and would see them again in a month. Time would play fast and loose like that all week. We bounced in and out of old friends lives. Heck we'd cleared three FARCers before we even got to the wedding.
Speaking of the wedding, I'm back and ready to appreciate the event fully. In case you're counting, and I was, I think this puts me at 25 weddings attended since high school. I'm a fan of weddings and as we approached the interesting venue Salvage One and saw the groomsmen in the street I got excited. (I actually got excited when I put on my tie, but come on, how vain is that?)
Not to worry, the groomsmen weren't playing in traffic. It was a photo shoot. Salvage One is an architectural salvage store. A more accomplished writer with a better memory could describe the venue better, but the foosball table with wooden players was in the back, the giant chandeliers with film strip piping were near the makeshift bar, and the pews were for sale. The wedding itself was a quick event, as my sophomore year roommate wed his high school girlfriend in this the later round of their love. They'd worked hard to get to this point and they knocked out some nice vows, kissed, and sent us upstairs to eat and party.
The reception was gorgeous. The event planner now wife and the art director now husband had their personality seeping throughout and their personalities clearly have class. At least until you view the photo booth pictures. Their DJ was dancing to her own beats. It made me consider a new career while I danced along. The bride and grooms' friends had moves. As we age, I think more people are realizing that they can dance. I went for quantity, because if you can't out-move them, out-move them, if you know what I'm saying. You don't? Well, man the groom's grandma had dance moves like you would not believe. It's a good thing somebody pulled her to the bar before she started planking.
Five FARCers down and Chicago's in the rear view mirror. Madison, WI, we're coming for you. First, we stopped for dinner in a town that seemed to be a series of streets plopped down on a field. We'd visit C's Wisconsin study abroad pals and find her sport, cornhole. And on to Madison.
Madison was so quiet because that very day the Wisconsin college Ultimate team lost in the National finals. C assured me that wasn't the case. Maybe school was out. Maybe the protesters at the state capitol were tired. Maybe no one could believe that we were staying in a hotel. Don't worry, it was only for one night. Madison was sixth street for us. We seemed lost without a tour guide. Even when we enlisted the help of another FARCer, Jenn, over drinks, we just couldn't seem to find our footing as we rambled on B-cycles not unlike the Capital Bikeshare in DC, away from the lake and onto the trail that looked not unlike MKT. Madison to us may have been a collection of places we'd already been.
It may have been the siren call of Fond du Lac that had us distracted. M, K, and their children left the DC area about a year ago and now finally we got to see them again. Their children were bundles of energy. They probably had half the energy in Fond du Lac. I believe M called it a suburb without a big city. I'm pretty sure it had a Wal-Mart. We spent two quiet, other than the sometimes screaming kids, days in Fond du Lac and it reminded me why I love those cats. Bouncing through the playgrounds and chatting at the kitchen table I could have been 18 or 80 and I think I'd still like being around M and K. Those kids are pretty awesome too. They wanted to be tossed, turned, twirled as much as energy would allow. I tried walking lunges and squats, but their turn as dumbbells only seemed to tire me out and leave them wanting more. We even got in a little disc throwing from 5 feet apart. Fond du lac should definitely be closer.
It is closer to Milwaukee and our next stop on the trip. I slept while C drove. This was a vacation pattern that seemed to work heavily in my favor. Another pattern heavily in my favor, was that C let me pick a lot of our activities. We toured the Pabst mansion (that Pabst, of Pabst brewing, did you know he had a mansion? And some seriously interesting germanic tastes? Whoa. Also, servants quarters. Get some.) We had lunch at the Milwaukee market in the historic third ward where the advertising museum has been closed for several years, but the building is for sale in case you're interested. We then made our way to N and J's home for another bout of guest rooming. N and J were excellent hosts and let us bask in the glory of Clifford the Big Red Dog and Elmo. There daughter E may have factored heavily in those television choices.
When Clifford and Elmo were off, we spent our daylight at the Milwaukee art museum, the Lakefront brewery tour, and hanging out in the yard as N checked her veggies. We spent an evening at a gallery viewing too. I can't remember what Alice Cooper said about Milwaukee in Wayne's World, but I can almost guarantee he was right. And then the vacation got real. How do I know? The hosts got a baby sitter to go out on Friday night. I don't know what the going rate for baby sitters is, but I know that N and J got their money's worth. Or I got their money's worth. Or somebody got some money's worth. Look over there- bratwurst. Yum.
10 FARCers in all. Only 217 Facebook friends to go.
Tuesday, June 07, 2011
Driftwood
Vacation ended on Saturday, saving airline bucks, but also allowing me to play Ultimate on Sunday. I woke up at 5:30 AM, grabbed a zipcar and drove. Seat dancing was in full swing to keep me awake and driving. Traffic was really light, but it was raining, I was heading to the beach on the day most folks head home and it was really early.
The team seemed happy to see me. It was a changed team from Bell Crack. With about 15 people missing from the final roster, the team was just a third of its previous size. There was plenty of playing time to go around. I felt great. While everyone was dragging around their tired legs, my legs had been touring, floating through the sky, and now were fresh and ready to play.
I made a few mistakes early, even though I'd planned to protect the disc. I had an immediate drop as the dewy disc slid through my hands. I tossed away two dump throws, one because the handler wasn't in position yet and one because he wasn't headed where I expected. I tossed away two other throws that I really want back in that first game as well. I was excited and zipped them in. One was better than the other, but both were inside and overzealous.
We couldn't find a way to win, so the team went 3-4 on the weekend, but I was mostly proud of the way we were playing and it was nice to start to get a feel for what people like to do. I'm excited to keep that process going.
I had a few highlights that I'm proud of. I positioned myself on a floaty huck and came down with a grab. I had some help D's where I got to sky some ladies. My two best plays came in our last game though. I caught a huck and called time out. We set up an iso play to Karpo, but I couldn't find space I was happy with, so Andy, my current favorite handler wheeled around behind me for the dump. I flipped something a little too close to a push-pass to him and then headed up line on that force side. He sent me to the edge of the end zone, but I was able to plant my foot in bounds and make the grab before I stepped out.
The other play was also in the end zone. The vertical stack was a mess. The cutters weren't getting open, or when we did, we were still five yards out of the end zone. The handlers worked it and sometimes got it to a cutter, who flipped it back to them. It was the end of a hot day, so this seems like it went on for minutes. I made a force side cut from the back of the stack and had a little bit of daylight. My defender was close and pretty speedy. Bruce Wayne fired the disc at me. The defender was well positioned to make a play, but I was able to reach forward and grab the disc for the score. It was nice to get one of those. I feel like I'm on the end of that sort of thing a lot. Maybe it's more noticeable from the other end.
More Ultimate tales to come. I'm pretty pleased with how the season is going so far. Winning hasn't been the thing for a while now. I'd like to win, but it's fun to play, make new friends, and build something together. Meanwhile, the psoas seems to be holding out. I'm working out and massaging it quite regularly. It's been manageable and I hope it will stay that way.
For the non-sports fans, I may have a vacation recap rattling around in my head somewhere. Maybe I'll be able to squeeze it out.
Vacation ended on Saturday, saving airline bucks, but also allowing me to play Ultimate on Sunday. I woke up at 5:30 AM, grabbed a zipcar and drove. Seat dancing was in full swing to keep me awake and driving. Traffic was really light, but it was raining, I was heading to the beach on the day most folks head home and it was really early.
The team seemed happy to see me. It was a changed team from Bell Crack. With about 15 people missing from the final roster, the team was just a third of its previous size. There was plenty of playing time to go around. I felt great. While everyone was dragging around their tired legs, my legs had been touring, floating through the sky, and now were fresh and ready to play.
I made a few mistakes early, even though I'd planned to protect the disc. I had an immediate drop as the dewy disc slid through my hands. I tossed away two dump throws, one because the handler wasn't in position yet and one because he wasn't headed where I expected. I tossed away two other throws that I really want back in that first game as well. I was excited and zipped them in. One was better than the other, but both were inside and overzealous.
We couldn't find a way to win, so the team went 3-4 on the weekend, but I was mostly proud of the way we were playing and it was nice to start to get a feel for what people like to do. I'm excited to keep that process going.
I had a few highlights that I'm proud of. I positioned myself on a floaty huck and came down with a grab. I had some help D's where I got to sky some ladies. My two best plays came in our last game though. I caught a huck and called time out. We set up an iso play to Karpo, but I couldn't find space I was happy with, so Andy, my current favorite handler wheeled around behind me for the dump. I flipped something a little too close to a push-pass to him and then headed up line on that force side. He sent me to the edge of the end zone, but I was able to plant my foot in bounds and make the grab before I stepped out.
The other play was also in the end zone. The vertical stack was a mess. The cutters weren't getting open, or when we did, we were still five yards out of the end zone. The handlers worked it and sometimes got it to a cutter, who flipped it back to them. It was the end of a hot day, so this seems like it went on for minutes. I made a force side cut from the back of the stack and had a little bit of daylight. My defender was close and pretty speedy. Bruce Wayne fired the disc at me. The defender was well positioned to make a play, but I was able to reach forward and grab the disc for the score. It was nice to get one of those. I feel like I'm on the end of that sort of thing a lot. Maybe it's more noticeable from the other end.
More Ultimate tales to come. I'm pretty pleased with how the season is going so far. Winning hasn't been the thing for a while now. I'd like to win, but it's fun to play, make new friends, and build something together. Meanwhile, the psoas seems to be holding out. I'm working out and massaging it quite regularly. It's been manageable and I hope it will stay that way.
For the non-sports fans, I may have a vacation recap rattling around in my head somewhere. Maybe I'll be able to squeeze it out.
Monday, June 06, 2011
Five fingers, five toes
I finally ran in my Vibram five finger shoes. I've been walking in them a few times a week for a while. I work out in them, but I hadn't been on a run. They work my ankle support muscles and my calves, even on a walk. For the run, I was tentative at first. I found a park near Chicago. The ground was soft, a little muddy even. I warmed up properly. I trotted through the grass. I delicately placed my feet. I avoided tree roots and watched for drunkard's glass. I gingerly stepped over asphalt and sidewalk and tried to stay on the path. The single track wound around the way. I chased it and got more comfortable with the run. I sped up. My strides didn't lengthen, they had to quicken. My heels grazed the ground. My ankle creaked, but on I sped over grass and mud. Stepping lightly again over asphalt and concrete. Pace quickening. Choppy stops. Up the muddy hill I ran. All my toes engaged. I felt balanced even in the slippery conditions. I wrapped it up in 20 minutes. My calves and hamstrings both felt used. My shoes were wet with mud and sweat.
Man, do they stink now.
I finally ran in my Vibram five finger shoes. I've been walking in them a few times a week for a while. I work out in them, but I hadn't been on a run. They work my ankle support muscles and my calves, even on a walk. For the run, I was tentative at first. I found a park near Chicago. The ground was soft, a little muddy even. I warmed up properly. I trotted through the grass. I delicately placed my feet. I avoided tree roots and watched for drunkard's glass. I gingerly stepped over asphalt and sidewalk and tried to stay on the path. The single track wound around the way. I chased it and got more comfortable with the run. I sped up. My strides didn't lengthen, they had to quicken. My heels grazed the ground. My ankle creaked, but on I sped over grass and mud. Stepping lightly again over asphalt and concrete. Pace quickening. Choppy stops. Up the muddy hill I ran. All my toes engaged. I felt balanced even in the slippery conditions. I wrapped it up in 20 minutes. My calves and hamstrings both felt used. My shoes were wet with mud and sweat.
Man, do they stink now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)