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Jul. 2nd, 2004

I knew I was going to be sore, but hell! This is ridiculous! I wasn't so sore after my first workout on Tuesday evening. I woke up early today to lift before work. I took it fairly light still, even lighter than I did on Tuesday, but I have been stiff and achey all day. I only worked upper body today, and I just have not been able to get my arms properly stretched.

But this didn't stop me from playing hoops tonight. At first no one was on the courts but Bri and me, but eventually folks showed up and we got some 3-on-3 going. I was playing at my usual level: decent defense, poor and inconsistent offense.

But the guy I was guarding for the last 3-4 games... damn, he was a bitch! Persistant little bugger who wouldn't let up and who knew how to use his body for positioning. Despite the fact that I have close to a foot and probably over 100 pounds on him, he gave me my money's worth in the post. The kid has hard hips, hard elbows, and a hard head, all of which I became acquainted with. I joked at one point that at least half the sweat on my drenched t-shirt was his.

But after the last inadvertant tête-à-tête, I'd had enough. It was time to start throwing my bulk around and make him my bitch! Damn, I wish I had that kind of fire on the court more often, 'cause I tend to play well when I'm angry. I got the ball in the post and dribbled, backing into the key. He was all over me on defense, but I kept pushing back, staking my territory, using my great ass and shoulders to gain ground inch by inch. And then I pivoted, jumped, and faded back. He was in my face, guarding me closely, but I shot a laser, practically no arc, into the hoop, nothing but net. I got mad props from both teams for the way I abused that guy in the key and for the shot. Next inbound pass, Bri drilled the ball to me in the post again. This time I didn't wait. I grabbed that ball and drove straight for the backboard, up and through the kid's arms as I nailed the lay-up. The other team got the ball back, and they fed the ball back to the kid, encouraging him to give some of that treatment back to me. But I was having none of that and forced the turnover. Knowing a hot hand when they see one, my teammates got the ball back to me in the post. Again I backed in, like I did the first time, but this time when I pivoted I drove to the basket instead of fading away. Another easy lay-up over the kid's helpless arms.

And then I let up. I got my payback for the accidental headbutt, and I laughed at the spectacle me and the kid must have been putting on. The anger diffused, my game sank back to mediocre levels. And the kid got his revenge in the last game, scoring six straight baskets on me. (Of course, by then I had developed three blisters, at least one of which I'd torn, so I was no longer able to plant and pivot...and I was exhausted...excuses, excuses.) But for a few minutes there, I was unstoppable, using my strength, height, and mass to put myself in the best position to succeed and playing relentlessly and aggressively.

And Bri was still talking about "the shot" over an hour after we stopped playing. :) Feels good. So good that I can put up with the achey muscles and sore feet, because they are such a small price to pay in comparison.


( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
Jul. 4th, 2004 11:30 pm (UTC)
Being jocular relieves pain?
Jul. 5th, 2004 01:27 pm (UTC)
I'm not sure what you mean. Being jocular can help one forget or ignore pain, certainly. But did I make a connection between jocularity and pain? If you're referring to the last paragraph, where it felt so good that I could put up with the achey muscles and sore feet, the feeling good wasn't jocularity, it was a sense of pride, accomplishment, and satisfaction.
Jul. 6th, 2004 12:58 am (UTC)
Word play on jocular / jock. Bad joke. Forget it.
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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