Back on the field

A few years ago, I announced my retirement from competitive sports. My wife was pleased with this, as she was tired of having a husband who would wake up in the morning and asked to be carried down the stairs.
So it had been a few years since I played sports on a regular basis, unless you count front-yard wiffle ball with children.
I had been telling my wife for a while that I wanted to get back into some sort of regular physical activity, so when the opportunity to play flag football arose, I thought it was a perfect fit.
I was quite excited when I told my wife.
“Are you nuts?” was her response.
She then began to remind me of the very long list of ailments and injuries directly attributable to my career in flag football: Pulled muscles, broken ribs, shredded knees, crushed toes, black eyes.
I assured her that I was older and wiser. She agreed with half of the statement.
I promised her that I would (a) stretch a ton before each game, ensuring that I would not injure myself while playing and (b) I would not take it so seriously that a loss would put a dark cloud over the next few days.
When I went out for the first game, I was somewhat concerned what several years’ hiatus had done to me. Had I lost a step? Could I still catch the ball? Have they come up with the next generation forward pass?
I was pleasantly surprised to find out that I could still run and catch. I was also pleased to find out that I was less out of shape than I thought.
I came to realize that, although I thought I had been inactive for the past seven years, I had actually been engaging in a fairly intensive workout. It involved:
1. Wind sprints: “Parker, get back in the cart and put down the cantaloupe — WE ARE IN A GROCERY STORE!!!”
2. Overhead presses: “Fine, touch the ceiling once more and then it’s bedtime.”
3. Leg lifts: “OK, one more airplane ride. And then Daddy has to collapse for a few minutes.”
4. Intense cardio: Also known as the “Just stepped on a Thomas the Tank hop”
Basically, unbeknownst to me, I was in some of the best shape of my life. OK, that’s a slight exaggeration. But I was far off from where I thought I would be, which was a good sign. The next day I was sore, but it was a good sore.
And you can guess how long that joy ride lasted. The next time we practiced, I made the egregious error of attempting to punt the ball, something that my leg decided was not going to happen.
I felt a sharp pull on the inside of my thigh. I tried to run a few times, and my leg informed me that if I continued to try that, it would make me fall on the ground.
A pulled muscle, I figured. Those happen. I’ll rest it and wrap it really tight for the next game. Sure enough, a few days later I was game ready again.
I stretched like crazy, wrapped up my leg tight as a drum, and was having a banner, pain-free day. Joy ride 2, prepare for your screeching halt.
There was a play across the middle, and a guy near me caught the ball.
I was a few yards away and tried to make up some ground and grab his flag. I’m not really sure how I did this, but I ended up planting my knee firmly in the ground and twisting my entire body to the left. I hobbled to the side, my knee throbbing in pain. After a few plays, I was able to come back in, thinking I was no worse for wear.
Let’s fast forward to the next morning, when I made the ridiculous mistake of trying to get out of bed.
The scream and subsequent roll off of the bed onto the floor let my wife know that something might be a tad wrong. I apparently pulled a muscle in my chest or rib cage. And if you are not familiar with those kinds of pulls, I recommend that every time you go to take breath, you stab yourself in the side with a steak knife.
Here we are a week later, and I appear to be on the mend. (I can actually brush my teeth without crying!) I haven’t set foot back on the field yet, but I am hoping to be there soon.
After all, I was in far better shape than I realized. And surely these were just freak accidents that could have happened to anyone.
I am sure the next game will be fine. I just hope my wife will carry me downstairs the next morning.