Friday, November 16, 2007

Splash damage (and other video game terms I wish cropped up more in casual conversation)

After 27 and perhaps a half uneventful laps this morning at yonder YMCA a tiny movement altered the course of my whole day. I was just doing a little backstroke when a lateral movement of my right arm caused something dreadful to happen.

It pops out sometimes, my shoulder I mean, right out of the socket. Ever since that night at the young life camp in Saranac where I tripped onto a root and my clavicle let go of my humerus and scapula it has happened every so often. Hell that phenomenon has been a major obstacle towards getting back into swimming for the better part of a decade.

Finally, this iteration, it happened. Dear god it hurts like hell when it does. Just think of splitting a chicken wing into the drumette and two-bone sections. Then imagine that is your arm at the biggest point of articulation.

As if swimming doesn't wreak enough havoc on the rest of me! Now I know its zero impact but there are plenty of ways for the pool to hurt you. Lets consider a few.

Muscle fatigue is the combination of lactic acid buildup, micro tears and all the usual goodies that come with psychotic quantities of aerobic exercise. Its like having a three dimensional sunburn all the way down to the bones. Sometimes I can almost feel where the ligaments meet with bone tissue starting to peel and fray.

Then there's the irritation issue. Sure being totally stripped of all the oil in your body comes in handy, cuts down on deodorant costs and leads to wicked awesome hair effects but it comes with a price. I always feel stuffy and snotty at the same time. Way back when it was so bad at times that I would just leak mucous all day from my nose. There's a great feeling! Its like snorting a pureed jellyfish and then slowly drizzling it out for 9 hours.

My feet feel like stress balls ringed with sandpaper. Part of that is due to the scum I no doubt pick up from walking around barefoot on the perpetual christian wetness that is the ymca locker room floor.

Huzzah though, its working at least. While my physique remains somewhere well within the boundaries of endomorphic masculinity at least, after so long, there is finally hope again.

Now on the topic of physical health and sanitation (in my case tri-weekly chemical sterilization) I have to expound. My time between service orders today and more significantly last night has dwelt heavily on a few major points.

Meth Mouth: Holy.....Crap....It.....Is......Gross.

Intellectual Honesty: I wonder, and I hate that I cannot even breach this discussion without eyes rolling away. But why do we segment what we treat with skepticism and what we treat with faith?

I know I know, change the record man. But I don't want to change the record. I just want some homogeneity when it comes to how people process information. I mean it is SO OBVIOUS how 'ID' people are lying and obscuring the truth (as best we know it) to suit their ridiculous agendas. I hate it. I hate it because it muddies the waters. Granted its certainly not as idiotic at the hydroplate theory. I mean you'd have to be pretty FN dumb. Just look at the site, its totally retarded.

And I intend to smack them around for being douche bags.

1 comment:

Matt said...

your statement about feeling ligaments fray where they meet the muscle reminds me of when i started lifting weights again. I thought I was taking it nice and slow... turns out if you destroy enough muscle tissue, later you pee it out. It looks alot like you're peeing blood. Went to the Dr. and he did a blood test, all the damaged muscle tissue in my blood stream made it look like I had liver failure :-).

Felt kind of dumb, but glad i'm not dead.