In which I get a good talking to....

This past week has been hard for me.  My normal exercise outlets of Yoga class on Monday nights and swimming at the Y have been unavailable due to seasonal down-time between yoga sessions and a weeklong closing of the pool for maintenance and cleaning.

I’ve used this time on things like mowing the yard and trimming trees and bushes in the yard that have grown tremendously this summer.  Usually, it becomes very dry by now and we have even abandoned efforts to water the yard.  This year we have a steady amount of rain and my yard is lush.  I actually should be mowing it as I type but I need to relate an odd occurrence from this morning. 

As I was lounging this morning, contemplating what I would do being unable to swim, the idea of lifting weights came to mind.  I have a curl bar and some dumbbells (…not my boys) that I could easily put together a good upper body workout with.  I was thinking about the different exercises I could do, the reps and sets in my head when I heard a sound….

“Psssst!”

I stopped and looked up expecting to see Kimm or one of the boys.  There was no one.  I went back to my business.  Then I heard it again.

“Pssssst!”

This time it was a little louder.

Again I looked up.  Our dog Bailey had not moved.  She’s 14 and I don’t know if she’s deaf or just doesn’t care what people say anymore.  I sat still for a minute and started looking down the hall thinking someone was calling me.

“Pssssst…Hey…down here!”  I looked over at the floor and all I could see was my pair of running shoes.

“Yeah…us…down hear” one said.  It strangely had a New York accent. 

“Hello?” I said, not believing my ears.

“Listen up Big Fella” the left one said.  “You’re on this kick to get back in shape so you can run again, correct?”   I was not sure if I was taken aback more by the fact my shoe was talking to me or the attitude it was speaking to me with.

“Hello?”  He boomed. “I’m talking to you here”.

“Uhhh…yea…” I stammered.  Still not sure if I was having a conversation with a shoe.

“You want to get where you are running again…so you go to a pool?  You do Yoga?  You fall down? You get up?  Now you want to go throw some weights around?” Lefty, as I decided to call him, continued completely agitated with me.

“Uhhh…sure.” I said unconvincingly.

“Then why…don’t…you…RUN?”  He screamed.  With this the right shoe started giggling at the situation.  This ticked me off.  I don’t need to get bullied around by a pair of running shoes.  “Wait...” I said trying to take command of the conversation again. “You’re a shoe…right”? I asked.  “Technically a left” he replied, “but you are correct”.  The right shoe continued giggling as if this was the funniest conversation he’d ever heard.  “You’re an inanimate object...”  I stated.  This set the shoe off “Oh, we’re gonna get PERSONAL now are we?”  With this the right shoe started waving his laces in the air and sticking his tongue out at me”.    “Stop that!” I insisted.  “I’ll throw you two into a bag for Goodwill if you keep this up”.

A stillness entered the room.   Lefty cleared his throat.  “Listen…I’m a reasonable shoe…”  he said quietly.  I interrupted “…and what, if you will, is an unreasonable shoe”?  “Flip-Flops for men...a complete waste of time”  he answered and continued as if I never interrupted him.  “All I want to know is…if you want to run?  Why not run?” 

I sat there for a minute.  Lefty had made a good point.  I’ve been avoiding the one activity that I’m really supposed to be trying to improve the most.

“You’re right” I conceded.  “Of course I am.” he said.  “Come on, lace us up and take us for a spin”.  I put them on.   I had an old rugby drill I wanted to do.  I grabbed Sam and headed over to a park.  He wanted to do some running to get ready for his soccer season.

I laid a cone out at each corner of the field.  In the center, I placed my old, faithfull rugby ball.  I explained to Sam that we were going to do something called “Figure 8’s”.  We would walk the width of the field, jog to the center, and then sprint to the far cone.  Repeating this cycle a second time brings you back to the beginning and you have finished one lap.  When I played for the Detroit RFC, we would occasionally run these as a “part” of practice.  We would usually do 10 laps.  When training on my own, I used to do these.  I would do 15 laps in about 45 minutes.  When I was really feeling it I would do 5 Down Ups before the sprint section.  Today my goal was 5 laps.  To keep Sam focused, I made him bring a soccer ball to kick along to help him build his ball handling skills as well as endurance. 

A quick diversion on soccer…  I never was a big fan of soccer.  I don’t care that the rest of the world thinks it is the greatest sport.   In many of the countries that carry the opinion that soccer is “King” they also tolerate famine, totalitarian governments, and poor dental care.   Other than the game being painfully slow, my main problem with soccer is the “feigning of injury” in attempt to draw a penalty.  In rugby, there is one ref watching 30 players in a very physical game.  If you do not like the way another player “approaches the game” you will have the opportunity to let him know.   I remember one game where a team mate named Tim McGillen had a “differing opinion” with several U of M players regarding how high their tackles were becoming.   High tackles in rugby are considered “dangerous play” and the referee should have been calling penalties against several the lads in Blue.   Having seen enough, Tim getting the ball in the open, with me on his outside, with one tiny back to beat, are in the perfect position to score.  If Tim couldn’t run around this guy, I surely could run him over.  Instead of working a little two-on-one action, Tim tooks off at a 45 degree angle back towards the U of M defense trying to get back into the play.  Instead of trying to run past, over, or setting up a defender, Tim attacked him grabbing him with his free arm and hitting him in the chin with the arm holding the ball.  Upon dropping him, he looked found and attacked his second target and treated him in a similar manner.  McGillen was “cleaning up” the level of play.  Much like in life, sometimes you just got to clean up "stuff" on your own.   In soccer, a player who receives a glancing blow to the shoulder while running parallel with an opponent is likely to fall holding their hands over their face and proceed to roll on the ground as if they had a spear in their back, were on fire…or both.  As soon as they realize the ref is not going to call a penalty, they pop back up and begin playing as if nothing happened.  As a former rugby player…I can’t stand that.  So when my youngest started playing soccer, I was torn.  When he turned out to be pretty good at it, I was mortified.  It’s his life and he gets to choose his own path, though.  As one of my old rugby captains told me “let him ride his own wave”.  Thanks Geno.  Sage advice.  As always.  That said, the first time that kid fakes and injury he’s going to have to deal with the Old Bear on the sidelines…

Back to the Figure 8’s…we set the cones up and I walked to the center of the field and gently placed an old rugby ball I’ve had for years in the grass.  It is old, faded, grizzled, and its best playing days are in the past...much like its owner.  I turned and headed to the corner where Sam and would start our workout.  I thought I heard a contented "sigh" but no one was there when I turned around...

Sam and I stretched out.  As we got ready to begin I looked down at my shoes.  “You sure you’re ready for this?”  I asked under my breath.

“This is what we were made for!” Lefty assured me.  “Let’s do this!”

I smiled and Sam and I headed off.  Figure 8’s are a great work out because you can push yourself as hard as you want.  You also build up to full speed so there is not the shock to your body of sudden starts and stops you get in playing basketball. 

Walk, Jog, Run.  Walk, Jog, Run. We made it through the first one.  It was pretty warm out and there was a lot of moisture on the grass.  This made for pretty humid conditions.  As we passed the ball in the center my shoes cheered me on with a “GO!”  I’d lengthen my stride and push it through the far cone.  Sam would be waiting for me.  My shoes kept track of the number of laps for me.  "Two…three…come on two more!"  My shoes kept cheering me on as I went.  I think they were happy to be getting a workout too.  I almost felt guilty about wishing I had my cleats on because they would have given me better traction as I kicked into sprint mode in the slick grass. Can you cheat on a shoe?

“There you go Big Fella!” Lefty congratulated me as I finished my last lap.  I had a healthy sweat going from every pore in my body.  I clasped my hands above my head and breathed hard.  Sam asked if he could go romp on the playground equipment.  “Sure thing Kiddo” managed to escape from my mouth.   He bounded off as I inhaled a bottle of water.  I walked around picking up cones.   I headed out for the ball and about 10 yards from it,  I got an urge and darted for it, scooping it up in one motion.  I spun to avoid a tackler and headed straight up field.  For a second it was ten years ago.  I was scanning the field looking for black and orange jerseys in support and anything else to run over.  I heard the again voice urging me on…”go…Go…GO!”   After about ten steps, reality kicked in and I slowed to a stop.  “Easy there Big Fella” Lefty cautioned.  “You’re not ready for THAT!”  I laughed at myself and walked back to our gear.  I gathered it up, called Sammy to the car, and headed home. 

I sat on my bed in my workout clothes holding my ball and feeling pretty satisfied with my workout.  My legs did not have the old “jump” they used to but I did feel a bit of the "old spark" which was most encouraging.

I kicked off my shoes.   I stared at them for a minute.  They just kept staring back at me with silly grins on their faces.  “Thanks guys” I finally conceded.  “I couldn’t have done it without you”.  Lefty winked and said “No worries…it’s what we do”.    With that I got up and executed a pop pass with my old rugby ball into a chair and headed to the shower.

“Nice pass, mate” I heard with an Aussie accent.  I turned and looked at the ball.  I walked over, slowly picked it up, and eyed it closely.  “Who do you think was yelling at you to go?” it asked me.  I laughed out loud realizing the ball had been cheering me on.   “Thanks for the run old friend” he said.  I patted him and said “You’re welcome”.  I put him back down when Lefty looked at me….

“Hey, look…a talking ball!”