Thursday, July 1, 2010

Faded Glory

I had an opportunity to return to playing basketball in an 8-team department league. Vivid hallucinations make me twitch and stay awake late at night - a head fake to the right drive left for an ally-oop followed by a steal on the in-bound pass straight up into a jumper with all net and a foooowwwwl for goodness sake.  Of course, I make the free throws, in  my mind.

I walked away from first pickup and and then league ball after too many contact injuries - a cracked elbow, a broken pinky etc. Mindful that I hadn't shot a ball in over 10 years I went to the gym to test things out at the most basic level...can I dribble the thing.  I went with my new squeeky black basketball shoes that I spent an hour picking out to a pristine re-finished miniature indoor court and when I wasn't able to get a ball from the front desk I thought, let's start even simpler. Could I run one suicide? Could I do the slide one time around the perimeter of the 2/3 court? and still breathe?

I had expected this to go fairly well because after all I was running 20 miles a week and doing yoga. But my lips turned pasty and dry on the slide and I had to take a break before the suicide! Not only that, the next day, despite how short the duration of my test efforts, my body hurt.

My husband breathed a sigh of relief when I said, "Honey, I decided not to play." He doesn't like to see me get hurt.

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