just hobbling around

Last week I went to a conference in Nashville. One of the entertainment events was a softball game, so I signed up in advance and took my old glove.

How dangerous can slow-pitch softball be, played by a bunch of middle-aged lawyers?

Heh. It seems that these guys play softball frequently and seriously. One of them has played every week for 35 years with seven other members of his high school baseball team.

So I'm standing on first base, feeling good about hitting into short center field and driving in two runs. Short center is where the ball has always gone for me, man and boy, my whole life. I can't pull it into left field and I've never hit it over the fence but I can usually get a good single.

The batter after me was the once-a-week player I described above. He hit into deep right field . . . an inside the park homer except I'm in front of him. He's a faster runner but he was too smart to pass me. I thought he was going to carry me in. I felt like the road runner, wheels spinning, but no traction on the ground. As I'm approaching third base I felt the unmistakable twinge of a pulled hamstring, also known as a torn hamstring, and I hobbled home with the batter right behind me.

That was a week ago. I've been hobbling around with an Ace bandage from hip to knee and a fairly dramatic bruise on the back of my thigh.

I've been saying to myself all summer that I need to start walking/ jogging/ running but the weather was too danged hot. Now that the weather is cooling off, I definitely need to start walking/ jogging/ running but I'm going to have to wait another 5-6 weeks while my hamstring gets back to normal, and then it will be slow going.

Getting old isn't hell. Being soft and out of shape definitely is.