nags of a similar ilk

warmup:
800m jog
form running (high knees, butt kicks, side shuffle, etc.)
stretching

strength / plyos:
2 sets of 15 pushups
2 sets of 45 crunches
2 sets of 15 rocket jumps

2 sets of 5-10-5
2 sets of 25 single leg ankle raises
2 sets of 15 single legged 12 inch bench hops (hop up 12" stadium
bench aprox 15 times each leg)
2 sets 10 box jumps (jump up aprox 20" onto a box/bench)

alactic speed endurance
3 sets of 10x40m (30s rest/rep, 5min between sets)

cool down lap
abs 

Having not gone to yesterday's velocity because of a migraine (an annoying, frustrating, painful, bothersome mirgraine), I desperately wanted to do something today. The headache was still lingering, though, so, really, not much was going to happen again today. Except that, crap, something, anything, right?

So, when Doyle sent out today's track workout, I figured it was an omen. I went.

I missed the warm up run, but managed a quick lap, and jumped in the with form running. My achilles was hurting a LOT on the warm up lap, and the form running was nearly impossible. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

The plyos were straight forward, and pretty short, with the single leg ankle raises being really the only problem I had (well, and the girlie pushups, but I'm saving myself for tomorrow).

2 sets of 15 pushups
2 sets of 15 lunges each leg
2 sets of 20 squats
2 sets of 15 tuck jumps
2 sets of 25 single leg ankle raises
2 sets ice skaters of 14 leaps, 7 each leg

Next came the real reason we were here, eh? The sprints.

Four each of five different sprint lengths, types and rest times.

1. 0 to 40m sprint, rest 30 seconds in between
2. 0 to 25m to 0, rest 45 seconds in between
3. 10m to 0m to 40m, rest 45 seconds in between
4. 0 to 25m to 0 to 25m to 0, rest 60 seconds in between
5. 0 to 10m to 0 running backwards to 40m to 0, rest 60 seconds in between

Andy, Doyle, Shirley, Jason and Warren were at the track, with Tyler showing up for the sprints, who cares about the plyos at the beginning, eh?

I was, expectedly, the slowest of our group. If I tried really hard, ran all out, I could sorta, kinda, maybe, a little bit keep up with the group, where "keep up" means "finish withing 3 meters of the person in front of me." I realized fairly quickly that neither my achilles, nor my fitness were going to let me keep up that pace, with the achilles stopping me from where the heart wanted to go.

I tried stretching between runs and between sets, but wasn't able to get my calves and achilles loose. After the first three sets, I was ready to be done. I was just done. All the doubts, all the frustrations, all the disappointment of the last few months settled into my achilles, and I wanted to just stop.

I don't know why I kept running. I did. I finished the workout an embarrassingly far distance behind everyone else, but I finished.

Those first few steps back are hard. I hate that I'm slow. I hate that I'm perpetually injured. I hate how far off I am from what i was. I hate that I'm frustrated. I think that fundamentally, I hate that I ended up in the middle. I am, of course, on the decline. I was never a star, never more than an okay player, solid in most respects, weak in others, and never a star.

Of course, everyone can't be a star. "If everyone's special, no one is," or something like that. I don't even know if I'd like the mini-stardom being a great player brings. I would have liked, however, to be good at something, and have known that I was good at it. To have that feeling of complete self-assurance, self-confidence, and a complete lack of self-doubt.

Yeah.

Well...

I finished the workout. Good for me.

warmup:
800m jog
form running (high knees, butt kicks, side shuffle, etc.)
stretching

strength / plyos:
2 sets of 15 pushups
2 sets 15 lunges
2 sets of 25 single leg ankle raises
2 sets squats x 20
2 sets of 15 tuck jumps
2 sets ice skaters x 14

short sprints (cones at 0, 10, 25, and 40 yards):

a) do four 40 yard sprints; rest 30 seconds in between
b) do four 50 yard sprints between the 0 and 25 yd cones (down to 25, back to 0); rest 45 seconds in between
c) do four 50 yard sprint as follows: start at 10, run to 0, run to 40; rest 45 seconds in between
d) do four 100 yard sprints between the 0 and 25 yd cones (down to 25, back to 0, down to 25, back to 0); rest 60 seconds in between
e) do four 100 yard sprints as follows: start at 0, run to 10, run backwards to 0, run to 40, run to 0; rest 60 seconds in between

cool down lap
abs 

Of COURSE there was the ro-sham-eat.

At the sports bar, where we went after the last game to watch the EuroCup finals, a thunderstorm came rolling in. Being last June, and wonderfully warm as the rain came pouring down. Several teammates ran out into the rain to celebrate.

Well, celebrate isn't necessarily a great word, but the ladies did have fun.

I found the reaction of the other three sports bar patrons interesting. All three of them walked outside to "smoke," where "smoke" means ooogle at the half naked women prancing in the rain.

Prancing, at least, until the lighting started flashing with the booms less than three counts afterward. Then "prancing" became "mad dash back indoors."

Okay, today was no where near as good as yesterday. I mean, aside from the fact I kept getting plowed into by my defenders yesterday, I didn't have any serious physical problems. I didn't think I was doing particularly better at making sharper cuts and stopping quickly to change directions, but the actions of my defenders said otherwise, as one after another ran into me on the field.

Today, however, I was knocked on my ass from a pivoting thrower who lowered her shoulder into me. Warren and Wade told me to step back, as she was deliberately drawing the foul, which I did, but thought I just made it easier for her to throw all of her throws. I probably should have contested the foul instead of accepting it: if I'm knocked on my ass, I'm pretty sure I didn't initiate that contact. If we had observers, I would have asked for their opinions.

That was, however, the least of my problems today. I woke up with stiff lower back that I couldn't loosen. I knew what was going on. I knew this was a physical manifestation of the frustration I've been having with myself. Knowing this does not make accepting it any easier. I tried to continuing playing, until I ended up dropping two very easy catches that I was WIDE open for, catches I rarely miss.

Eventually, however, my back completely seized on me, making even standing nearly impossible in the waves of pain. I stopped playing and took off my cleats.

And watched from the sidelines as yet another team cheated in a way that COMPLETELY infuriates me didn't help my mood any. Didn't help so much that I actually ended up in a fight with a guy from the other team about their cheating.

"We're not cheating."

"You have four people within three meters of the thrower. How is that not cheating?"

"There's another player in that three meters."

"Which means you get TWO players, not FOUR."

"They're allowed to be there."

"You know you can't have two people within three meters of the thrower right?"

"Yes."

"And your players are within three meters of the thrower, right?"

"Yes."

"And your players know they aren't supposed to be there, right?"

"Yes."

"But they're there anyway, right?"

"That's the way they play."

"So, they know they're not supposed to be there, but they do it anyway. That's the definition of cheating."

"Not if they think it's okay to be there."

"It's still cheating."

"No, it's not."

"How is it not cheating to have four people within three meters, all of whom know that only one person is allowed to be there? It's not like they're 10 feet away, they're like four feet away. The tall guy can touch the thrower!" I cursed here. "That's cheating."

"No, it's not."

How do you argue with blindness? How do you argue with people cheating? Worse, how do you accept a loss to a team that so clearly cheats, and thinks it's okay?

I couldn't. I walked away. I called Kris, waking him up at 7:30 AM, crying because I didn't know how to handle this confrontation, given how upset I was with the moron with whom I just had a screaming match.

To my surprise, the team noticed I was gone. Few people knew why, so I might not have been screaming as loudly as I feared I did.

We lost that game, and the last game of the tournament.