Video games....Maybe I shouldn't...

Note: Writing with the flu has proven to be quite the challenge. It's not my best work....but I'm just proud that I did it at all..... This week has been the calm before the storm; a slow week that has allowed me to take some much needed down time before the Spring ball schedule swings into high gear. I took advantage of the extra time by playing a couple of video games and, now that it's over, I probably shouldn't have. Minecraft…

I never really had an interest in playing Minecraft.  Having watched the kids play it I found the games graphics dull and the music annoying as hell.  

But Tera talked me into playing it one day -- you know -- that whole parent child bonding thing, and for about the first ten minutes I was like “I have no clue what I’m doing”.  But then, for reasons  still unbeknownst to me, I became completely obsessed with building up my little hole in the side of the hill.  

First, the dirt had to be replaced by cobblestone…..Oh, and windows would be nice because it gets kind of dark in here.  Maybe after that I could put in a second floor and some carpet.  OOOOOHHHH!!! Carpet would be awesome.  Or at the very least a big throw rug….Yeah.

That rug really tied the room together --- (Quick, name the movie!!!!)

Six hours later I have a three story cobblestone house with carpet, a crafting table, a bed, a chest, and a furnace on each floor; the second and third floors had a ton of windows.
Wow….I really need to stop -- my butt is numb and I think I may have lost circulation in my legs.

The next day Toby gets on to play --- and he accuses me of having OCD.

I do NOT have OCD.  I just like things to be neat and organized.  Especially my chests, where this whole OCD thing became a conversation.

Me: “Dude, what are you doing?”

Toby: “What?”

Me: “You dumped everything into one chest.”

Toby: “Yes.  Chests are used for storage.”

Me:  “How do expect to keep everything organized?  Look.  Food stuffs and seeds go in the first floor chest, tools and weapons in the second floor chest next to the trap door, miscellaneous items go into the second floor chest furthest away from the trap door and dirt, stone, iron, etc go into the chest in the third floor.”

Toby:  “Really?”

Me:  “Yes, really.”

So Toby would occasionally put like an apple or something in the tool chest and grin when I got pissed.

Toby:  “Dude, I could keep you busy for hours.”

Me:  “Man, don’t mess with my chests. I mean, seriously, why do ya gotta be like that?”

Later, we began working together on a combination house/mine when we got into an argument over bed placement.

Me: “Dude, you can’t bump four beds up against each other like that.”

Toby: “What are you talking about?”

Me:  “Sleeping shouldn’t be a communal thing.  Don’t you know you can get lice or something doing that.”

Toby was incredulous:  “Dude, what the hell? There are no lice in this game.”

Me: “Yes, I know.  But would you bump beds together in real life?”

Toby: “No.”

Me: “Then don’t do it here….That bothers me.”

He did it anyway…..Grrrrr……

Overall, things in my little Minecraft world were peaceful and organized.  I had my three story cobblestone house, a pen for sheep, cattle, and chickens, and I had a nice little wheat crop going.

Then one evening Toby and his cousin Allen played on my account.  By the time they were finished all of my tools were missing, I was out of food, and all of my livestock got out through a hole in the fence that was supposedly the work of a creeper.

What’s more is one of the little hoodlums caught the forest on fire and burned down all the trees around my house….I was…….soooo…...angry.

I told Toby that I was starting a new game and that he could fix my old one…….

Yeah….Here I am, a grown man (well, at least physically) all riled up over a child’s game. It would be kind of embarrassing if I were to have a stroke over what is really meaningless entertainment. But if it did happen my family would not be shocked... NO......I do not have OCD....

Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag

I have never been good at dealing with plot twists.  It’s why I can no longer watch M. Night Shamalayan movies (aside from the fact that they kind of suck).  His movies plod along and have you thinking one way and then towards the end of the movie --- BAM ---- a plot twist occurs that basically tells you that everything you saw previously was a lie.  I can’t handle that; it drives me up a wall. It makes me fell as if I had been duped.

So I’m playing Assassin’s Creed and I’m really getting into the game;  I’m totally immersed in the story.  I eat up the opening storyline of  battle in the open sea between enemy ships and am fascinated when the hero is washed ashore and begins to his transformation from pirate to assassin.

Then --- BAM --- the next thing I know the pirate becomes some geek taking a tour of the high tech, modern day facility that he will be working in.  The pirate is only real inside an online game.

“Whoa…..What the hell?” I yelled.

“What?” asked Toby.

“Why am I suddenly a tech weenie?”

“Because it’s part of the game?”

“Dammit, I don’t like it.  I was feeling all piratey and shit. AARGH!! YOU KNOW?!  Why did they have to go and do that?” "Holy crap, Dad, relax....."
But I couldn't relax. I was so aggravated that I shut the game off and haven’t played it since.

Okay, maybe I'm just not meant to play video games. The next time I have a slow week maybe I should go to the gym instead. Yeah, who am I kidding. Game on....Game on....

FEEL THE BURN!!!

Tim, by far, is the best athlete in our family.  He's not very tall, maybe 5'6" or 5'7", but has wide shoulders, thick legs, and heavy hands.  Add to that he's very quick and has a motor that just.....doesn't......stop.

And yet, in high school he had no real interest in sports --- go figure. He spent his days working on his truck and wandering about town riling people up.  In fact, he took great joy in riling people up.

I don't know if Tim is actually the one who did it -- but it's a great story and it sounds like something Tim would do.  So I'm going to share.

One Saturday night a girl was complaining about her car.  She couldn't put her finger on it but something about it just wasn't right.  Tim, (if it was Tim --- he's never claimed responsibility) walked around the car once and said, "Yup, I see your problem."

"Really?"

"Yes, you need muffler bearings.....Just go to the auto parts store and ask the guy at the desk for two of them.  He'll know exactly what you're talking about."

For those who are not mechanically inclined (like myself), there is no such thing as muffler bearings.  Tim just sent her to the auto parts for a good laugh.  The girl spent the next Saturday evening looking for him.  She was going to kill him.

But that's just Tim;  he loves a good laugh.  Did I by chance mention that seeing others suffer also makes him laugh?  Oh, yeah.....Let me tell ya.

I had just finished my 5K walk.  Yes, I said walk.  I'm the kind of person that doesn't see the point in running unless there is a ball involved, an axe wielding psychopath giving chase, or beer at the finish line. Not saying that I don't try to run --- I'm just not a fan of it.

Anyway, as I'm finishing up my walk I get a text from Tim:

"Do you have any special plans during the day?"

Oh boy.....What fresh new Hell is this?  Any time you see him ask a question in this manner you just know there is going to be some pain and suffering involved.  I can just see him smiling as he typed up the text.

"No plans," I text, "What's up?"

"Are you interested in a light run and a workout?" He text, "Just a few miles and then a light lift."

I quickly noticed he said "light" twice.  That can only mean one thing ---- burnout.

But, as much as I shuddered, I was well aware that I have not been very motivated over the last few months.  I push the kids constantly about staying physically active, so I knew that I would be a hypocrite if I declined this offer.  Plus, as much pain as I'm sure he will put me in, I know that I will walk, well, maybe crawl away from this experience having learned something new.  That is the great thing about Tim -- I can't think of anyone that can vary a workout the way he can.  He's always talking about some new exercise that he's using.

So I accepted the offer and within thirty minutes Tim was at my door ready to go.

As we walked out the door I warned him that I haven't been keeping up on my workouts and that I'm out of shape.

Tim thought nothing of it --- "Eh...You'll be fine."

I think we both knew that that was a lie.

Before we go any further allow me to give you just a little background.  Tim is a police officer who happens to be well trained in the art of hand to hand combat, loves to scuba dive and I believe is l working to become a dive master.  He also likes to take his dogs on "short" two mile "motivational" runs.  There are other things that he does as well but I digress --- I think you get the idea.  Tim is a very physically active man.  Ok, moving on.....

When we first get to Tim's place he tells me that his two dogs want to go for a walk.  Would I be ok with that?

OK?  Absolutely I'm ok with that!!!!  Go pooches.

So we went on a two mile walk with the dogs, who kept a nice pace.  I was very happy to walk; my only complaint being that the dogs were horribly gassy.

"Man," I said as I choked back tears, "You didn't tell me that their back blast area wasn't secure."

"Oh, yeah," said Tim, "That's why I walk beside them"

Ah......Thanks for the heads up.

We get back to the house, and I am happy.  Hell, I think Tim is starting to mellow.

"Ok, ready to run?"

Um, what?

It turns out that the dog walking was just a warm up.  I pulled the inhaler out of my sweatshirt and took a few puffs.  I just knew that this was going to suck.

And Tim did not disappoint.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, (no, not really) let's go."

Somewhere during Mom's gestation period, God has forgotten to put in a neutral, first, and second gear in Tim.  And the rest of us have been paying for it ever since.

The pace Tim had us start off at immediately had me thinking of race horses shooting out of the gates.

"AAAAANNNDDDD THEIR OFF!!!!"

A half a block later I was certain that I was going to die.

Meanwhile Tim is talking throughout the entire run as if we're just sitting on the beach and drinking Mai-Tai's.

Tim: Yeah, I haven't been running as much as I would like.

Me: (huff, huff) yeah....

Tim: Yeah, these hills kind of suck, don't they?

Me: (wheeze)  yup......

Tim:  I'd like to get my mile back down to six minutes and thirty seconds.  I used to run it at that.

Me: (cough, gasp)  Dude, (huff, huff,) If I keep (wheez) a nine minute pace (wheez, cough) I'm happy.

Tim:  Well that's what we'll shoot for then.

Me --- thinking:  Shit, I didn't mean TODAY.....

Me:  Let me know when we get to a mile....I'm gonna throw up.

We got to a mile and I'm proud to say that I didn't throw up.  But I didn't get to stop either.

Tim: Ok, keep walking...

No problem, I thought, that will be that much less that I have to run ---- or so I thought.

Tim:  Let's backtrack to the sidewalk over there.  Once we get there we can turn around and resume our run.

Shit.........Ok.

I used up everything I had in the first mile, making the second mile an absolute Hell.  The pace had slowed way down and Tim kept talking to me, kept me moving.

Toward the last half mile a man on a bicycle rode up beside us and yelled good morning.

I didn't have the energy to say anything.  I just, grunted, nodded and concentrated on picking up and putting down my feet.

Tim, on the other hand, started up a conversation with the man; completely unaware that he had picked up his pace to match that of the man on the bicycle.  The gap between Tim and I grew larger as he chatted away with the man on the bicycle.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Ah, yeah, great day to be out."

(huff, puff, wheeze)

"What's the road construction over there for?"

"Their putting in a new intersection."

(hack, spit, wheeze)

"They sure are taking a long time."

"Oh, yeah....Just annoying the hell out of everyone."

(gasp)

"Yup."

"Well, hey, this is my turn.  Been nice talking to you."

"You take care."

Tim then turns around and sees ----- nobody.

Yeah, (wheeze)  I'm back here.

Tim slows down and waits for me.  And when I get there?

"You gotta sprint left in you?"

Holy shit --- did you really just ask me that?

"I don't know."

"Last half block.  You can do it." Tim encouraged, "Gotta get this sprint in to make your nine minute mile."

I looked at the oncoming traffic.......I could get a lot of rest in a hospital bed.

"GO!!!" Tim yelled

Ah, God......I ran as fast as my dead legs would take me.  Tim finished way ahead of me and I could see him watching the clock.  I tried like hell to summon my inner Forrest Gump.

"I'm just runningguh......"

The very second I reached Tim's driveway I stopped and place my hands on my knees......That sucked.

Then Tim can over with the watch....Nine minute mile.

Well, maybe it didn't suck that bad after all.

I stood up, feeling victorious.  All I have to do now is lift weights.  I can handle that.

"Are you ready for Bring Sally Up, Bring Sally Down?" Tim asked

Um, what?

Bring Sally Up is a song by Moby that is also used in a pushup challenge.  The concept is simple; you start in a down push up position and go up when you here the lyrics, "Bring Sally Up".  You then go back down when you hear "Bring Sally Down."

Yes, simple concept......The execution however......

Tim:  "Remember, you can't let your chest touch the ground."

That lasted about forty five seconds before my arms gave out. My chest and face hit the ground, and not delicately.

"Sally can go to Hell," I said, "You're not looping this song are you?"

From forty five seconds to the one minute fifty second mark where Tim finally gave out I floundered.  I think I may have did one push up for every three of Tim's.  Thank God we only did one set.

"Okay," said Tim as he shut off the music, "Ready for the ab workout?"

Uh.....

Hold legs six inches off the ground, followed by flutter kicks, followed by leg raises, followed by bicycles, followed by a plank ---- thirty seconds each, no break in between.

I did okay until I hit the bicycle.  When I first started I couldn't feel my thighs; I had to looked down just to confirm that my legs were, in fact, still moving.

Man, I thought, I wish I could feel my thighs.

Wish granted.......Poof!!!

Both my thighs seized up at the same time.  I let out a tiny shriek as my thighs cramped and curled up my legs.......I wish I couldn't feel my thighs.....I wish I couldn't feel my thighs.

I looked like a dead bug, laying on it's back with all it's limbs curled up and dangling in the air.  I struggle to straighten my legs out and had just got them straightened when Tim said PLANK.....

I rolled over into a plank.

"This plank feels pretty good." Tim said.

"In a comparative sense I suppose so." I said.

"Are you ready to do two more."

I didn't even hesitate.  "NO....."

"Okay, let's go lift"

After all this you would think that the weight room would have been a disaster when, in reality, it was the best part of the day.

I'm very stubborn about my weight room routine.  I have always been a low weights, high reps kind of guy.  I have never had any real interest in bulking up.  Plus, at my age, I firmly believe that low weights and high reps is the way to go.

So whatever it is that Tim and I did, Tim went to the point of near failure while I did my low weights, high reps.

There were a few times he would tell me as I got ready to quit, "You got one more in you."

And he was right, I did.....But that would have meant that I would have stopped on an odd number.....And I can't do that.

I don't know where I picked up this superstition, but when I work out -- unless it's divisible by five, I cannot end on an odd number.  When Tim was telling me I had enough for one more rep he was right ---- but that would have put me at an odd number indivisible by five.  Nope, I can't do that.

Yeah....I don't know.

Anyway, I'm glad we finished the day with weight lifting because it ensured that the days workout would end on a high note.

Now that it's over.....would I do the same routine all over again?  By myself?  Honestly, probably not.

But if Tim were there to push me.....Yeah, I would.

When he dropped me off at the house he told me that he had one more run to go.......I thought he was nuts.

That was two days ago......and I'm still sore.  But, oddly, it feels good.  I think Tim may have sparked some long dormant workout embers residing deep within my soul.  This weekend I will plan out a whole new routine.  It won't be as crazy as Tim's, but I will say this.  The next time he calls I plan on doing much better.  Well, unless he calls next week......Cough, gasp, wheeze.

Young man...Old(er) man...

The Bridge...

While back in my old home town I showed Tera the bridge that I jumped off of when I was in high school.  Her response:

As I gazed down and looked at the muddy greenish water below me I kind of wondered the same thing.

"Honestly, pumpkin, I have no idea what possessed me to take a leap ----- several times."

But that is me thinking as an older, middle aged man.  There is something about losing that shroud of youthful invincibility that changes your perspective on the world.  Which, in my case, turned out to be a very good thing.

Young man:  Woooo!!!!
Older man (I'm not going to OLD just yet):  There could be anything floating beneath the surface.....I could, like, get impaled by a large tree branch or something.

Young man: Hold on, I gotta take off my shoes...These are my good Nikes.
Older man: I bet that river water is going to make my car smell.

Young man:  Do you wanna live forever?  Woo-hoo! (splash)
Older man:  I'd like to survive today....

I was once told that before I jumped I needed to be on the look out for any groups of v shaped waves --- Gar.

Young man:  No problem.
Older man: Yeah, shit on this.  I'm out. 

Other examples of how the passing of time can change a man......

The Gridiron...

Football is great a way to illustrate the clear differences between young and old.

As a young man who just saw a teammate de-cleat an opponent:

"OOOOHHHHHH!!!!  YEAH!  THAT'S HOW YOU DO IT, BABY.  THAT'S HOW YOU DO IT.  WOO!!!"

As an older man who just witnessed the same de-cleater:

"OOOOHHHHH!!!! Jesus that looked painful.  Is he gonna get up?  I wouldn't.....I bet he has a concussion....


Diet (or lack thereof)...
Young man:  Yeah, I'll have two big mac meals, supersized, and a Dr. Pepper with each.  Thanks.

Older Man:  I'll have the 6 oz. ribeye -- and can I get a box?  I'm only going to eat half.

(Toby can eat not one, but TWO Chipotle burritos in one sitting --- and then go for ice cream afterwards.  I'm insanely jealous.)

Music...
Young Man:  Dude, check out my car stereo system.  I got 6.5 Bose speakers in the front and back, a Pioneer head unit, 10 inch Rockford Fosgate subs with a Fosgate amp.....It's killer.

Older Man:  You know a hearing aid is cheaper, right?

Young Man: Dude, check out the bass on this on song.  Doesn't it hit hard?

Older Man:  Your music shouldn't feel like it's punching you in the chest. Am I having heart palpitations?

(Okay....I have to admit.  Toby has his first car and I'm just as geeked up about decking out his car as he is.....We are going to drive Momma crazy.)

Physical Fitness:
Young Man:  Gotta work out at least four days a week.  Gotta do that killer ab routine. Gotta get that v shape, the six pack, gotta get that separation between the biceps and triceps......

Older man:  I gotta quit hurting myself.  Shit, how long is this going to take to heal?

Young Man:  Gotta work the core.  Planks and crunches man.....Gotta lose the love handles.

Older man:  I fear these love handles are a permanent fixture....Sigh.  But, you know, should I ever get stranded in the wilderness that six pack, that lack of body fat, won't do me a lick of good.  I mean, what if my love handles are the difference between dying in the woods or surviving to see my family again.

I better have another doughnut.

Drinking...
Young Man:  Case of beer, bottle of Jack.  Let's drink and watch the sun come up.

Older Man:  Six pack.  Drink one, fall asleep on the couch at 8:30 while only halfway through the second beer.

I'm sure I can think of more examples.  But you get the idea.


If it sounds like I'm complaining I'm really not.  I actually like being older. Sure, I don't move worth a shit anymore, my metabolism has slowed, and I can't drink like a I used to (actually don't miss that.....moderation is good) but as on older man I'm a lot more comfortable in my own skin.

Let the young ones run wild.  I'll be content with sitting at home with a cup of coffee (or wine) and a book......A book that I have to hold far away from my face so that I can read it.

Bifocals anyone?  Shit.....