Too Tired to Write, not …

Thursday, December 18, 2008
Meters Rowed: 6,000
Time: 26:51
Pace: 1,000 x 3 @ sub-2:00
         500-meter rest intervals
         1,000-meter warmup/cooldown
Total Meters Rowed: 192,835

Well, here’s a first (or maybe a second). I’m sitting here and can’t think of a thing to say. It’s like I’m Hunter S. Thompson in the old days, deadline looming and the editor’s screaming and I gotta think of SOMETHING.

Except I’m no Hunter S. Thompson. Where’s Johnny Depp in “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” when I need him? (Or even Bill Murray in “Where the Buffalo Roam”?)

Maybe the brain is empty because my tank is too. This workout took it outa me, no question. Like I knew that it would (to channel a little James Brown). That’s the main reason I didn’t do it yesterday, when I was supposed to. A set of three 1,000-meter pulls at sub-2:00, with 500 recovery meters in between. Tack on 1,000 meters front and back for warmup/cooldown, and I think I’ve got my fastest 6,000 meters ever. Though it sure didn’t help when halfway home on the last of the 1,000s I did some quick math and came up with ONE MINUTE TO GO! When of course it was TWO minutes.  And, OK, that last 1,000 was at more like a 2:03-4 pace, even as I tried to convince myself that if I could go FASTER I’d be done QUICKER. But no, really, it’s all to the good. Too bad I’m wiped.

Or maybe not. I mean, that’s what this about, isn’t it? Tear your self down to build yourself up? Nobody said it wouldn’t be semi-tough (to channel a line from the Burt Reynolds movie of the same name). And exactly where did I think of that one? No clue. This must be what happens when your brain has been poured out onto the floor in an exhausted heap. Anything can be poured back in to fill it up.

Though while we’re on the subject of “Semi-Tough,” the great book by Dan Jenkins that became an OK movie. The BETTER roman a clef about the Dallas Cowboys is Peter Gent’s “North Dallas Forty.” Great, great read. I still remember one chapter ending with the protagonist, a wide receiver for Dallas, getting himself stoned per usual and going for a long drive, all the while dreaming about making the perfect catch of the perfect pass in the perfect game. I think I have those particulars correct. And suddenly you realize why a player would still keep playing way past his due date. If only because such perfection might still be out there waiting for him, if only he can find it, grasp it, hold it, take it for a touchdown. The movie isn’t as good, but it is good. The opening with Nick Nolte, aforementioned ex-golden-boy, now-hanging-on receiver, trying to get himself out of bed in the morning is priceless.

But wait.  If you’re looking for a good contemporary read on the professional game of football and why players submit themselves to its cruelties of body and mind (money is an answer, yes, but not the only one) I STRONGLY recommend “A Few Seconds of Panic: A 5-foot-8,  170-pound, 43-year-old sportswriter plays in the NFL” by Stefan Fatsis. Stefan joined up with the Denver Broncos for the 2006 season, attempting to make the team as a field-goal kicker (he has a soccer background).  Great read. Great book. Did he make it? Buy it and find out! Oh, did I mention (full disclosure) he’s a great friend from back in my newspaper days?  “A Few Seconds of Panic” would make a great holiday present. So would his book on Scrabble — yes SCRABBLE.  Or this one about baseball’s minor leagues.

So there you go. My mother used to like to quote her father, one Andy O’Neil, in situations such as these, when a person (me, for instance) said one thing (e.g.: “Gee, I just can’t think of anything to write about …”) and then did the exact opposite (James Brown; Semi Tough; “A Few Seconds of Panic”; blah blah blah). Grandpa, Mom said, would quote from the old (old, old)  ditty: “She said she wasn’t hungry, but this is what she ate…” I got the meaning, and will never forget those moments, but until I just looked it up on the Internet, I never before knew exactly what it was she ate. Or for that matter, the actual title — “I Had but Fifty Cents!” Now I do. For a musical rendition, click here and then on the picture of the speaker.