Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Day 7.210 What If

I was forwarded an interesting article this morning.

The back-story is largely paradoxical, what some call serendipitous. I will tell it here:

Since our return from the Nation's Capitol one week ago, I have been frequent and fervent in the attempt to regain whatever fitness was lost during the fantastic Eastern trip. I like to say, 'hitting it hard'.

Yesterday was particularly painful as my left piriformis and illiotibial band went on strike simultaneously in an effective display of solidarity. As I was training with Junior, examples of fortitude and focus are effective motivational tools.

So I shuffled along, trying to cushion each foot strike with as much balance and finesse as I could muster. The slightest irregular movement sent lightening bolts of sharp pain down the port side. I wanted to quit at 5K but managed to slug-out the scheduled 10.

At 1800 we staged the traditional Tuesday night cycling session in the PB.

Afterwards, knowing I needed rest and a quick recovery, I limited myself to a single episode of 24 (First Season) as wind-down routine. As a footnote, this is the third, and last, of my 'all nine seasons' of 24ing. At last I have become an expert at something.

I lay down and replay some of the day's highlights. I get cozy and comfortable with the warmth and wonder of this profound farce.

And then it starts. A sensation with which I am quite familiar. Chest pain.

This time featuring a dull inner left side ache accompanied with bouts of ice pick stabbing.

It'll go away I self diagnose. Like it usually does.

It doesn't.

I pop three antacids and think about Jack and his situation, the rock and hard place of protecting a presidential candidate while trying to rescue his kidnapped wife and doughtier. By comparison I have it easy, a 23 perhaps.

Minutes pass like hours and the pain worsens. OK, I'll talk.

I try again, in vain, to make sense of all this. I want to come to an understanding with it. Are we going to die? Will it be painful and slow? Are my affairs in order? Will anyone miss me? Would Jack approve?

In the dark I locate my Tylenol and fumble with the easy opening top. I look at the clock. I have one hour before wake up call for this mornings spin class.

Finally I get to sleep but the two phones chime their 0400 greetings in an eerie form of two-part harmony.

I spring up and sit in the darkness listening to the alarms and the beating of my heart.

Seems I am good-to-go.

After a particularly challenging indoor cycling set I get home, ready for a nap, and see the article.

And I wonder what if.

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