Bing-Bong
Bing-bong is the game that we play in this house. Ping-pong is for those much more refined. We thwack and tip-tap and mostly chase after the ball that's much too light for our heavy hands. We finish a game and take drink breaks. To lubricate.
I've never lost a game of bing-bong to Amy. She tries. Sometimes.
Another sport I've never lost in is racquetball. David and I played racquetball at the Gig Harbor Athletic Club for a season--a few months maybe. I was still in peak basketball condition whenever we played, which meant that even though my racket sport skills were minimal, I could move around well.
There is a touch and a feel in athletics. There is a point at which you know your body is doing the right thing. I remember a Freshman team game back in the day, when I was still more confidence than skill. Something came over me that game. I had a spring in my step. I could see the game before it happened, and I could react without delay. My muscles did what I wanted every time. I wish I could remember my stat line from that game, not that it would matter. My "superpowers" in that game led to a cockiness I had no business with. I specifically recall thinking the refs got a call wrong, then another call, at which point I said to one of them, "That's two. Three strikes and you're out."
I was a 5'7" awkward 15-year-old suburban white kid. So obviously it was my place to express such entitlement.
Still. I remember that game. How my body reacted. My body reacts less good these days. I think I have Achilles tendonitis. I checked the Mayo Clinic website and they seem to think that's it. It's a weird injury. I think it happened when I ran 8 miles one day in LA. But it's persisted for almost 2 months now, and it doesn't seem to really be getting better. All I want to do is be able to run again without pain, and do it again the next day too. I want to breathe mile-high air--struggle to breathe it, more like. And the only way I can do that right now is through mountain climbers or vigorous bing-bong.
Sigh.
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