No, it's not really my birthday yet. That auspicious date doesn't arrive for a few weeks yet, though it seems I've received my first birthday present. Many months ago, right about the time I pulled my right hip flexor muscle, I decided that maybe I was ready to return to bowling in a league once a week. It had been almost nine years since I had done that; I left my last team in mid-season at the end of 1997 as I was about to start back to school. The thought occurred to me that maybe I would want to do some pre-season exercising, try to get back into some sort of physical shape. Then again, this was bowling we were talking about. I wasn't about to be asked to run a 5k race or bench press 300 pounds. The way I saw it, I was in fine shape to bowl--a little overweight, spare tire around the waistline, everything was a go. The only thing was I was lacking was a Wal-drobe, my pet name for having all your clothes come off the rack from WalMart.
I've participated in many sports over the years, but I can say that I am pretty competant when it comes to bowling. While working at Rhone Merieux I was once asked to help organize a company-wide bowling tournament, and I was glad to help. A bunch of people signed up, and I helped assign them to teams based on their assessment of their skills (beginner, advanced, etc.). When the night of the tournament came I realized to my horror that I had put two really good bowlers together on one team; it was almost a certainty that they'd win the contest. That evening I threw my best three game series ever, around a 650, including my personal high game of a 277. We wound up in a first-place tie with the team I accidently put two skilled bowlers on.
Like golf, it's a bit harder than it looks; throwing one good game is one thing, throwing three good games in a series is another. Unlike golf, I'm pretty good at bowling and have done it long enough where I don't feel the need to practice anymore to keep an average in the 170 range. So little things like practice and doing some workouts didn't seem to be that important. I forgot, however, that I'm closer to forty-one than twenty-one and perhaps a little practice and a few workouts might have been in order.
The first week of the league passed uneventfully. I finished injury free and with a total series score that earned me a 151 average--not bad but a little under what I'm capable of. The pulled muscles made themselves known starting the next morning. Most of the following few days were spent either with plenty of Advils in my system, on the heating pad, or both. It took a few days but everything felt ready for another night of league bowling. I showed up at the bowling alley last evening confident that my muscle pulls were healed and could look forward to beng rid of such problems for the remainder of the season. Boy was I wrong. On my first practice throw my left bicep let me know that it was still not quite over the experience of hurling a sixteen pound ball at fifteen miles per hour an untold number of times the week before. That was okay, I thought, I can play through that. On my second practice throw my left quadricep gave me a little warning twinge. Standing away from where everyone was lining up to take their practice throws I tried to stretch out my quads. After many years of playing soccer and trail hiking in the mountains my quads are fairly well stretched and I rarely pull them. But they seemed to be really tight as I went through my usual stretching routines. Satisfied I had taken care of my quads, I headed back in line to take another practice throw.
For the record, if a muscle is nice enough to give you a warning twinge, pay heed to it. On my third practice throw my left quad decided that if I wasn't going to pay attention to it, it would do something more drastic to get my attention. My approach to the foul line was met with a sharp pain in my upper left leg, sharp enough to cause me to instantly break into a sweat. I limped back off the approached and sat down, mentally evaluating this new turn of events and whether or not I could continue. It was obvious that I couldn't continue and that to even try to would likely only worsen whatever injury I had just endured. So I packed up my stuff and headed home to put ice on my upper leg.
I awoke this morning expecting to find that my quadricep had tightened up, but that wasn't the case. It didn't hurt like it did last night, but it was still uncomfortable. Apparently I've strained or sprained the muscle as it's obviously not a pull. As it turned out, my daughter wanted me to walk her into school this morning, so I obliged her. She asked if my leg still hurt, and finding out it still did, began running to the front door. That was nice of her, considering I couldn't run after her. So my first birthday present of the year seems to be a nasty sprain of my left quadricep. They say to keep a sprain elevated, but there's no way I can do that at my job without looking like some sort of pervert. Keep your comments to yourself, Sylvia.
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