We All Float Down Here, Georgie…
The Pick Up Game
Yeah, you read that right. Me. In a gym. Willingly.
To be fair, I would go to a gym quite often if it weren’t A) so expensive, and B) restricted to free weights and what-not.
You see, I hate lifting. Some of my best friends can dead lift a Buick (once upon a time, I almost did) but me, I’ve always been the runner. The guy who ran everywhere, six miles a day in the morning before school and another two miles afterwards. The guy who went to the basketball court and shot hoops for four hours. I was that guy.
Then I ruined my shoulder. Lesson I learned that day? Footballs are not meant to be thrown at 85 mph.
But since that day, I’ve been very particular about what activities I do. Since I no longer have access to my dad’s boat, I don’t waterski like I used to. I’m also no longer young (okay, 32 isn’t that old, but still) so organized sports are mostly out. But my savior came and showed me the way. Yes, the intranets explained that a new rec center opened up no 15 minutes from my house and had two indoor basketball courts. After checking it out, I decided today to check it out.
I love the place. Hopefully, I can sign up for monthly access soon. Running around and shooting hoops makes me feel good. Almost as good as writing does.
So tell me… is there anything you do that you enjoy as much as writing? And reading, by the way, does not count.