I have a big lump on my forehead. A giant bruise on my left knee. My inner thigh muscles and hamstrings are sore, like I tried to do the splits or something. And my back. Ow, my back.
I just want to know what I did to myself. There's me, laying on a heating pad watching John "too old to be a gymnast" Rathinglingwhatever compete in the frickin' Olympics with a busted finger and a bad knee. I've been sidelined by a mystery beer injury. How sad is that?
I've been nursing this hangover for 2 days. I used to drink like this in college every. night. Get up the next day bright-eyed and ready for Geo 121. Of course, that was at noon, and my day rarely started before 11:30, but it's all relative, right? These days I go to bed at 11 p.m. and wake up at 7 a.m. Before I went to bed at 3 a.m. and woke up at 11 a.m. What's the difference? Is there really that much aging going on between 21 and 24 or was I so used to treating my body like garbage that I thrived on it? And now that I'm good to myself (or try to be) even a little craziness throws me out of whack? Or does the steep slope to the home start sooner than we ever imagined?
Those are comforting thoughts, no? What's your take on it? What can you no longer do that used to part of your daily drill?
I know I'm throwing names around willy-nilly.
I'll jump on the "cast" section soon, I promise. Until then - use
your imagination.
