I Guess I’m Not 25 Anymore

I hadn’t played softball in at least twenty years, and when a bunch of people at our church retreat (on Thompson Island, in lovely Boston Harbor) got a game going, I thought, Why not? It’ll be fun! And it was, for a while. I can still catch a ball, and throw it reasonably accurately if not far, and even smack it for a base hit when I swing a bat! Amazing!  Especially since I was never very good at that stuff even when I was at my athletic prime.

What I can’t do, apparently, is run without injuring myself. Racing for home plate, I was about two strides from home when my left leg seized up and went out from under me, and I face-planted (dug a furrow in the ground with my nose, I think), and slid to a stop with my hand on the plate. My first thought—You look like an idiot. My second thought—PAIN!!! And I commenced rolling on the ground, trying to stretch the cramp out of my leg.

Well, I managed to give myself a pretty good hamstring pull, and now I’m hobbling around wrapped in an Ace bandage, giving an occasional yelp when I move in the wrong way. Luckily, I already have an appointment with the physical therapist tomorrow, for an Achilles tendon problem, so I’m covered there. And I have a classy-looking cane acquired years ago for costume purposes, so I’m covered there. But I count on walking and bicycling to get my exercise, so I’m more than a little concerned about slipping into worse shape while I heal.

But never mind that. To answer what seems to be everyone’s first question:

Yes, I scored the run.