Possible Connection....

With my history as a self-help author, motivational speaker, and longtime swim coach, you might think that my inspiration would be internally generated. A wise man once said, "We forge our bodies in the fire of our wills,"...and who better than an experienced coach to personify the principles of self-discipline and spontaneous sporting enthusiasm? It would make perfect sense to assume that I am one of those people whose relentless drive and continual focus on performance excellence derives from a spark that resides within.

But the truth is that I mainly thrive on the inspiration provided by the athletes I hang out with. Without their excellent role modeling, vigorous encouragement, and constant displays of positive attitudes, I'd probably just be a couch potato. Instead of striving toward new athletic goals, I'd spend my spare time molding buttockular indentations into the sofa cushions.

I mentioned before that my energetic friend Kim had talked me into signing up for the Colfax Marathon, which takes place this coming Sunday. I also mentioned that my workout progress had made it very clear that I would not be able to finish such a race within the 6-hour time limit, and that I would most likely suffer fatal injuries (or embarrassment) should I even make the attempt. After coming to that conclusion, I was most content to re-allocate the alloted time toward snacking and watching TV -- but Kim had a different idea. "Let's do the half-marathon instead!"

OK, sure. Thanks, buddy. The race is this Sunday. I'll be slow and cautious, and will probably be the guy that everyone cheers for because he's so much slower than everyone else -- so they assume he's afflicted with some horrible deformity and thus deserves applause simply for making the effort. The truth is that I'm just a regular fat guy with a bum hamstring and inadequate training; and that certainly deserves no special recognition. But if they do give me sympathy cheers, I'll smile and wave back and hobble along to the best of my ability.

Why do it at all when I know I have no shot at a good performance? Because it'll be a good workout and a chance to test my mental toughness. And besides, it's always fun to be in the race environment; you can't help but absorb energy and positive vibes from the early-morning crowd of highly-caffeinated athletes. I know that Kim and I will both enjoy the experience, regardless of finish times.

Anyway, if I were in shape for running, I'd be tapering this week. But since I'm not, there was no reason not to do a track workout with my brother last night. (Yes, he is another one of the folks who inspires me and keeps me working out. Would I even go to the track by myself? Not likely.) We didn't do a lot of repeats, and the total duration of the workout was brief, but we both worked hard.

Not hard enough to account for all the pizza we ate afterwards...but that's another story. The point I wanted to make here originated from the game of catch we played after running.

A little background: My biggest problem with running is that I have a weird tightness in my left hamstring that causes that leg to engage in a funny jerking motion when I run. It also hurts. It's been doing that for a long time.

Pat really enjoys baseball, and has been working on his pitching. He throws hard, but his accuracy is, um, a tad unpredictable. But he likes to throw the ball with me when he can, and I try to oblige him. The problem is that I'm not very good at catching the ball. Part of the problem is my vision; with the trifocals and the additional acuity fluctuations caused by my RK eye surgery, I have trouble picking up where the ball is going. Part of the problem is that I don't practice enough to be good, even if I could see well. And part of the problem (and this is the key point in this discussion) is that I'm a little skittish after sustaining several baseball-related injuries over the years.

Other than the Water World slide incident (broken ankle) and a few sore knees and blisters from running here and there, I've never really hurt myself in any sport other than baseball/softball. But whenever I've tried to play ball regularly, I haven't made it through the summer without getting seriously hurt in some way or another. Some have been relatively minor (broken fingers, broken ribs, concussions, etc.), but the one that came to mind after last night's catch session might be really important. I hadn't thought of it in years, and hadn't attached any significance to it...but about a decade ago I totally blew out my -- you guessed it -- left hamstring.

I don't know why I haven't made that connection before. It was one of those "all-out sprint to make the catch...but then fall down and scream in agony" kinds of injuries. When it happened, I thought I would need an ambulance to get to the hospital, but after some rest and ice and ibuprofen was somehow able to drive myself. They just prescribed rest and anti-inflamatories and the pain eventually went away, so I thought it was fixed. But now I'm thinking it was a more severe injury than we thought, and it was never adequately treated. Hmm.

How does this relevation help me in my current situation? It probably doesn't. I doubt that surgery is an option, so I'm left with the same solutions: stretching, ice, massage, and the old "when it hurts, stop doing it" option. But at least it's good to have something to blame for the problem. Now when people ask me why my running is so laughably non-symmetrical, I can confidently answer "It's an old baseball injury." (OK, that's a lie -- it was a softball game. But baseball sounds better.)

So, with that, I guess I'm ready for the weekend. When some tottering obese grandmother passes me during the race, I'll just shout out "Hey! I could beat you if it wasn't for this old baseball injury, dagnabbit!"

I just hope there's some of the post-race food left by the time I finish. Oh well. Wish me luck, and have a great day!