This blog is now retired. My new site is at: Predictably Irrational.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Triple Play

Today I had three workouts scheduled: P90X, a 3-4 mile run, and a wallyball tournament match.

I also have no babysitter this week and Tim works in the great outdoors, so the girls came with me to work. This limits where I can get my workouts in.

And when I say "limits" I mean I HAVE TO GET UP EARLY AND DO ONE OF THE WORKOUTS. Sure, I could wait after work but I have to be honest with myself: when I get home from work, I'm not going to want to do a workout.

So I got up early (which I don't like to do...I love my bed) and started on my Chest, Shoulders, Triceps routine. I had done half of this workout last Monday, which would have been my week 5 of the P90X program, but since I skipped all of the rest of the week's routine, I am beginning week 5 again today.

This one, like all the other ones, is hard. Twenty-five freaking exercises, every one of them works you to the bone. All different types of push-ups and funky weighted exercises. Don't get me wrong: I love it.

But it's not over, if you truly want to follow the routine to the hilt. After the workout that kicks your ass, it's time for a 15 minute Ab Ripper X. *Only* eleven 25 reps each. And if it's on one side, then it's technically 50 reps.

But I did it and now I have my run and my wallyball game to contend with.

I decide that, since it's only about three miles, I would run before the game. I started around 11:10 so I have to make sure I get my three miles in before my 11:45 match. And I did. And it felt pretty good. Much better than yesterday's four mile run. Towards the end, I could really feel the heat of the sun and thought there would be no way I could run any amount if I had to start from this point (as hot as I was).

So I get to the locker room, towel off and put on the kneepads and different running shoes (one day, I'll get a pair of cross-training shoes...). I'm sweating like a fricking BEAST and wondering if it will ever stop.

I pass my opponent and she tells me that her partner is going to be late and I reply with an overeager "THAT'S OKAY!" More time for me to cool down.

So I wait, toweling off, stretching, drinking gatorade...rinse...repeat. I'm ready for the game. I think, in the back of my mind, that we could throw this undefeated team off kilter and pull off a win...or at least a one game win.

And it almost starts off that way. We are racking up some points. We are in the lead. I just think Carlos is a genius partner. Always looking to see where the opponent is and trying to place the ball. Me? I'm just trying to set Carl...or trying to get a killer serve over.

And I'm still feeling good. The one thing I love about wallyball? It's so fast paced. And there's always one point in the game that I feel it: my heart is racing, I'm out of breath, I 'hurt' and it's one of the greatest feelings ever. I doubt it's the same, but my analogy is when drug addicts first get that initial high...the few seconds they get and then it's done. That's exactly how it is for me: it happens early in the game and I recognize it when I get it and then...gone...but it's already pumped me up.

So I'm stoked. And then Carl calls a foul: he went for a ball and the other guy was over the net. Carl rarely calls anything, except his own fouls (in the net). And he is an honest guy...eccentric, but the one quality this guy has is that he cannot tell a lie...nor would he...he is honorable. So when he calls it, I'm sure he's right.

And he has called things in the past. And it's almost always a "okay, let's do it over". There is a 'gentleman's game' no matter how competitive we are. We do the same if we think a call is made on us and we disagree. IT'S A WORK LEAGUE FOR BUDDHA'S SAKE.

And what happened when Carl called the foul? The GIRL on the team contested it. Not just contested, but with a whiny-eight-year-old-tone "HE DID NOT!" Text doesn't at all relay the silliness of her tone.

But Carl didn't back down. He was right there. He knows what he saw. And the guy finally acknowledged a do-over.

So she serves again and guess what? During the actual play, she yells at Carl "*YOU* WERE IN THE NET"...think "nanny nanny boo boo"...and how you sing-song it? That was her tone. GOD I WAS PISSED. You don't knock Carl. My partner. And you stop being a douche bag. Is this how you fuckers win games? You bully people when they call fouls on you?

I found it condescending. The girl can play volleyball...and is a decent wallyball player...BUT THEY AREN'T THE FUCKING BEST. And I guess she played college VB or something, so she must be the authority on the game BUT THIS IS WALLY-FUCKING-BALL and I don't think you played in any nationwide wallyball tournaments.

I am just reminded about how bad sportsmanship can ruin a game. We lost. We lost badly in the second game. I wanted so bad to kick their asses after that, to show them that they ain't the shit they think they are. But apparently we aren't the shit I think we are :).

And they still aren't, in my eyes. Don't get me wrong, I'll play them again, but there won't be any 'good game' coming out of my mouth. If you can't play with respect, you ain't playing a good game.

Perhaps that is why we lost. I lost respect and I couldn't play a good game...yeah. I'll go with that one.

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