I know it’s been a while since this Tortoise has updated his blog. My trek has been side-tracked by a family vacation. We spent a week in West Olive Michigan at a cottage right on Lake Michigan. It was nice, relaxing and away from my computer. My phone froze up a few days in and I was actually cut off for the first time in 15 years.
Being away from reality gave my head a chance to unwind. I did manage to stay active. As a family we participated in a race in Holland. Kimm and Sammy ran a 5k in which Sammy won his age group. Yeah! Max and I ran the 1.5 mile race. We all had fun.
I even got up several mornings and went to the Grand Haven Aquatic Center and swam before the birds woke up. It is a beautiful facility that is part of the High School. I had done an indoor triathlon there last winter. The alone time allowed my brain to think about a short story I’ve been muddling around in my head that I need to write. The “endless” hot shower was most welcomed as well.
As I left the facility, it was still nearing 8 a.m. and the football players were making their way in for the start of their practices. Two-a-days…good times. I was impressed by the size of some of these players. In a way, I was glad I was not going to be butting heads with them all day. Once upon a time, I would not have thought twice about it. I’m not 18 and bullet proof anymore.
Getting back home, I got back into my workout activities. I swam Monday morning and had yoga class that night. While at the Y, I realized that I had a big problem in that the pool will be closed next week for cleaning and that the current session of yoga was ending and the next class won’t be starting until after Labor Day.
I need something to do to keep on my trek.
I keep thinking about football. Not that I want to really play a game but about what I used to put my body through when I was one of those strapping young men like I saw at Grand Haven. So I decided that I would make my workout tonight one of the drills I used to do 30 years ago: Down Ups.
Down Ups are pretty much what they sound like. You run in place. You fall down. You get back up. Simple right? We used to do 15-20 reps each practice as part of our warm up. These would also be used as a punishment. Jump off sides…10 Down Ups. Make a bone-head play…10 Down Ups. Don’t hustle between stations…well…you get the idea. They would also be used for more severe punishment. I once got in a "little scrap" with a team mate that dissagreed with the way I was blocking him. That cost me 100 down ups and200 yards of grass drills. As a sophomore, we lost a game to Hazel Park. My JV head coach had played there. I lost track of the number of Down Ups we did the following practice. Curt Arnold said it was 175. I’ll take his word. I was still sore the next game. I learned a lesson that day. The lesson was this “Coaches can be stupid at times”.
I decided I would do 25 down ups and see how I felt. I threw on some rugby shorts and a t-shirt from the "2005 Aspen Ruggerfest" for good karma and headed out to the back yard. I stretched. I looked at the ground and thought about 25 Down Ups. I decided to stretch some more. I found what looked to be a nice flat, root and rock free area of the yard and finally began running in place.
“Tweet”! I mentally heard a whistle blow and dove for the ground. When you are 18 you can arch your back, roll like a break dancer, and pop back up. At 46, I hit the ground with the grace of an outdated Vegas casino. I pushed up with my arms and got my feet back under me.
“One. That sucked…” I thought as the next “tweet” blew again signaling me back down on the deck. I scramble back up to my feet and questioned if gravity had increased its power suddenly. The exercise in humility continued. “Tweet”…thump…struggle, struggle, struggle… “Tweet”…thump…struggle, struggle, struggle…
I make it to 10. I see my son Max looking out the window at me with a “what is the Old Man up to now” look on his face. My glare at him made him realize he best mind his own business. He ducked away.
My “running in place” has become a poor imitation of Jennifer Beals in Flashdance…. “Tweet!” The ground eagerly greets me. The soft cool grass wonders why I keep leaving it. I still do “Down” really well. "Ups” however, are becoming more laborious. I look at my reflection in the family room window to see if there is a tranquilizer dart in my butt so Jim and the gang from Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom can come in, tag my ear, and put a transmitter around my neck.
“Tweet” the whistle blows. The “thumps” are beginning to feel more like “whams” and I find myself lingering on the ground longer each rep. “I said 20 reps not 25…right?” my mind says attempting to renegotiate on the fly.
I get to 20. I stand panting. “This idea can be filed under W…for WTF” my inner voice says to me disgustingly. “Tweeeeeeeet” responds my head. Down again.…to rise again…slowly. I get to my feet. “What the hell was that?” the voice demanded! “Tweeeeeeeeeeet”! My body hits the ground again. It is only a spectator of the battle that is going on in my head. I am literally thinking about each move I have to make to get back up on my feet . “Tweeeeeeeeeeet” blows the whistle right as I stand preventing my dissenting voice from getting a foothold on my thoughts. “Two more…” I count as I get back up. “Get your knees up!” I hear my coaches yelling. “We can do these all day!” Instinctively, I begin to run in place… quadriceps burning… “Tweeeeeeeeeeeeeet” blows the whistle. I dive for the ground. It hits me like George Kennedy boxing Paul Newman in “Cool Hand Luke”. The ground takes pity on me. It no longer enjoys this. I get to one knee. I stand back up. I am numb. I have one more Down Up to do. I trot in place….
“Tweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!”
Man did that bring back memorys, down ups were and still are tough, just glad I dont have to do them if I choose not to.
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