The best revenge
Generally, I was an above-average student in school, with one notable exception: Physical Education. I managed to eke out a mere C. Mr. S, the PE teacher and wrestling coach, clearly did not like me. That was okay, however, since the feeling was mutual.
It was never quite clear to me on what he based his grades. When we played dodgeball, for instance, was one graded higher for the finesse with which one fell to the floor after getting smacked on the side of the head? God knows, I tried every kind of falling to the floor known to man—simple drops, dramatic wails accompanied by flailing limbs, bouncing my head off the floor, doubling over while cupping the remnants of my family jewels, etc. None of these earned me more than a C.
Or take the javelin throw, which we all had a chance to try during "Olympics Week." Oh, the excitement! Apparently, there are no extra points for creativity because my throw, which landed on the back end of the javelin, instantly snapping it into two pieces, earned me a C. And a look of disappointment from Mr. S.
The occasion for this trip down memory lane was my semi-annual medical checkup last week. Mr. S. surely believes that I have already died of obesity, or perhaps from my inability to dodge one of the inevitable low-flying objects that we all encounter in our everyday lives. So I felt a certain amount of sinful glee when the doctor told me that my ECG revealed that I have sinus bradycardia. "In other words," the doctor said, "you have the heart of an athlete."
Dodge that, Mr. S!
It was never quite clear to me on what he based his grades. When we played dodgeball, for instance, was one graded higher for the finesse with which one fell to the floor after getting smacked on the side of the head? God knows, I tried every kind of falling to the floor known to man—simple drops, dramatic wails accompanied by flailing limbs, bouncing my head off the floor, doubling over while cupping the remnants of my family jewels, etc. None of these earned me more than a C.
Or take the javelin throw, which we all had a chance to try during "Olympics Week." Oh, the excitement! Apparently, there are no extra points for creativity because my throw, which landed on the back end of the javelin, instantly snapping it into two pieces, earned me a C. And a look of disappointment from Mr. S.
The occasion for this trip down memory lane was my semi-annual medical checkup last week. Mr. S. surely believes that I have already died of obesity, or perhaps from my inability to dodge one of the inevitable low-flying objects that we all encounter in our everyday lives. So I felt a certain amount of sinful glee when the doctor told me that my ECG revealed that I have sinus bradycardia. "In other words," the doctor said, "you have the heart of an athlete."
Dodge that, Mr. S!
posted by BroLo | 6/19/2006 02:56:00 AM
5 Comments:
A sweet feeling indeed.
What prompted me to get out running was when I discovered that my wife's working heartrate was the same as my resting heartrate.
I assume it's the cycling that's doing it. Pablo Delgado hads a working hgeartrate in the high 60s!!
Does the athlete know? Did you swap?
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You fit young Friar, you ...
Yes, Bobble. It's also a sweat feeling.
It must be the cycling, Moobs. It's my primary source of exercise. My resting heartrate dropped from the low 60's to the mid-fifties in two years. I have heard that Lance Armstrong's resting heartrate is in the thirties! As for what prompted me, let's just say it wasn't a desire to look good for Jesus. Apparently, he doesn't put much stock in looks.
Ha, Pog.
Brother Lawrence, can you stir your athlete's heart to think of your readers waiting for a blog entry.
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