“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and a leaky tire.”
Good
Morning Earthlings and Fall Aficionados. Yes it feels like fall.
Last night our temperature dipped into the 30's. I took the garbage
out today in my usual summer attire; shorts, t-shirt, flip flops, and
grumpy old man hat. As the sun greeted me when the garage door
opened I was hit by a huge bit of “Cold”. I rushed through my
house to curb process hoping all the while that the current wife
would NOT have something extra to take out. Fortunately, she didn't
and I got back into the house once I waved at the neighbor taking her
garbage to the curb. Interestingly, she was dressed almost exactly
like me except for the “grumpy old man” hat. Once inside the
house I realized that my toes had apparently lost their feeling
because of the cold. So be forewarned fall appears to be here. As
we all know it doesn't last nearly long enough before (shh - lower
the voice) and whisper “Winter”. Just sayin'.
I
so desperately do not want to winter in Iowa but I have no where else
to go. Sue, you may know her as the current wife, has no interest
whatsoever of going anywhere unless it is to Iowa City. So I am
stuck for my 66th winter in Iowa I guess. I know its coming and I
know I hate it.
Back
to the garbage thing. Kay, my trainer and friend, and I were talking
the other day. She related to me a series of incidents involving who
else – The City Sanitation Workers. It seems as though Kay has
followed all of the advice given to her at to the correct method to
place her trash receptacles at the curb. She religious maintains the
3 foot distance between containers, has specially marked pails for
clear glass and so forth. Her recyclable container is one of the
original issues. It was a smallish blue basket with a black lid.
The lid snapped into place more or less. Well it seems that Kay if
becoming a bit “peeved” with the pickup guys of her recyclable
container. She has watched them grab the lid from the basket and
fling it in any direction that feels good that day. Next they pick
up the blue basket and bang it in the back of the truck. Oh, and
sometimes they don't do it correctly and some materials start flying
around the neighborhood. The real kicker is they meticulously place
the topless blue basket in the center of her driveway. You can see
what happens next, can't you? Yep, Kay rushes out, jumps into her
car, slams it in reverse and off she goes – until she hits the blue
basket. Highly frustrated because she can't see it from her mirrors,
she pops out of the car and on hands and knees, pries the basket from
under the bumper. Placing it aside, she jumps back into her car and
goes to work, steaming mad because she is now officially late for
work. This means that anyone in her Silver Sneakers class really got
a work out that day.
Coincidentally,
Charles (not his real name) and I got to trash talking Sunday after
church. So here is Charles - “Yep, getting' rid of the little blue
recyclable basket. They keep putting this two sided sheet of paper
in it after every pickup lately. One side is an admonishment that
they found stuff not to be in the basket and the other side said
something about turning it in and get the larger Curby (it has
wheels). I don't know which message is for me,” he said. “I
think I will turn it in and get the bigger one. They must want
everyone to get away from the smaller ones so their automated trucks
can pick them up.” Charles went on to describe his efforts at
trying to removed the address from the basket that he had painted on
it. The city is quick to remind everyone that these containers
belong to the city and not you.
Now
having had the conversation with Kay last week and this recent one
with Charles, I am wondering if Kay should upgrade to the bigger one
even though she doesn't need it. Maybe her pickup guy is trying to
make a statement. Hmmm, nothing would surprise me with the City
Sanitation Gestapo.
A
funny thing happened last week. As you know the weekend of September
8 & 9 was my parking lot fun time at the Spa. I was really full
of myself most of the week after that. I was pumped with the success
even though Billie Bob's Sewer Sucking Machine was rather rank.
Anyway, on Thursday I went to the gym and joined the “spinning”
class. Here you sit on a stationary bike and peddle for 45 minutes,
so I thought. I went because I envisioned myself as Lance Armstrong
and Kay was teaching. How hard could it be? Well, let me tell you
folks, it was hard. I had failed to realize that you didn't just sit
on the bike but you also stood up (out of the saddle is the official
term). I knew we would be changing the tension from time to time and
I was okay with that. As class if progressing I am finding out all
sorts of things about myself, my equipment, and time.
First,
I realized that time DOES stand still. What should have been 45
minutes turned into 3 hours for me.
I
learned that my equipment was designed by a pseudo-masochist.
Although equipped with several adjustable components, you could not
adjust them because some idiot had welded the releases and they could
not be undone. Next I learned that the “saddle” was not designed
for men. It was obvious as soon as I sat down on it. I think men
need something more akin to a John Deere Tractor seat. The saddle is
triangular narrowing drastically toward the front as I'm sure you all
know. This point, of course, directly interferes with parts of the
physic unique to men, if you know what I mean? Now I am telling you
I tried every conceivable position on that saddle that I could think
of short of turning around backwards to get comfortable. It never
happened.
You
can imagine how glad I was when Kay told us to get out of the saddle.
Yippee, I can stand up for a while. After a couple of times of
that, my quads screamed at me and gave out confining me to the saddle
eternally. It was about this time I learned my lesson about time
standing still. I was now in full awareness with my body. It was
telling me that those quads you thought were in perfect condition
were nowhere close to being there. Next I was acutely aware of the
nearly constant discomfort in my groin area.
Lastly,
I realized that butt rash was also very uncomfortable. Pardon my
“French”. I did work up a sweat, a good thing, and I was able to
respond verbally when spoken to somewhat coherently and I managed to
walk out after the marathon session was over. I politely told Kay
that I did okay and it wasn't so bad (a lie). As I walked to my car,
the thought came to mind that I didn't know for sure if my quads
would support me all the way to the car. I rather carefully and
gingerly shuffled to my car to get out there. Oh, I almost forgot, I
was the only guy in the class.
The
rest of the day wasn't too bad, I felt a little soreness but that
wasn't unexpected having tried something new. The rash was calming
down after a liberal amount of ointment was applied. My voice came
down from the soprano octave finally as the swelling downstairs
subsided. However, I was not prepared for the next three days. Day
One – virtually paralyzed. Day two – movement but intense pain.
Day three – feeling has returned and pain is almost gone. I am now
rash free, pain free and can walk without pain so I am now
considering whether or not I show up again on Thursday. Let's all
say it in unison - “ARE YOU INSANE?” Probably.
I
am not really sure whether my mouth talking before thinking or my
penchant for over estimating my physical condition is worse. Both of
these “qualities” seem to get me in trouble. I think my problem
is that my mind somehow got stuck when I was in Vietnam and therefore
I think I am still in my twenties which we all know is absurd. So
wish me luck for I am off the gym today, the first time since
“spinning”. I wonder just what I will do to punish my body
today.
Thank
you all for attending today's discussion. I so hope that you gain
some of life's insights into how the human mind and body are not
always on the same page. I also trust that none of this will ever be
repeated. Until we French Press our French Roast together again. TA!
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