The Thanksgiving Day Brother Brawl

Like the story of the pilgrims and Indians, the story of the Thanksgiving Day Brother Brawl is the stuff of legend. Depending on who tells the story, the details may be slightly altered, but the basic story remains the same: Matt and Mike got into a fight at Austin’s Concrete, and older brother Matt won.

If I remember correctly…

It happened on Thanksgiving. I want to say the year was 1997. That would put me at age 13 and Mike at age 10—a few years before his massive growth spurt. After finishing the big Thanksgiving meal, Uncle (Tom, but we all simply call him Uncle) took all the guys of the family to Austin’s Concrete where he worked for a tour of the facilities. This was a yearly tradition back in those days. For us kids, few things were as cool back then as the big cement mixing trucks they had there.

Mike was annoying me. I think he was making incessant noises. Or maybe he was throwing snowballs. Or maybe he was stepping on the back of my feet as I was walking. OK, so I don’t remember exactly what he was doing, but he was instigating. Eventually my patience wore thin, and I snapped.

Several punches were thrown and landed—most of them from me on him—and the end result was a bloody and battered little brother (back when he was still little). We were sort of behind the tour at this point. I think Mike’s crying let them know something was wrong. My dad was not happy. I was in trouble. But I didn’t care. My rage subsiding, I felt a little bad that I had spoiled the trip to Austin’s, but they all didn’t realize HOW MUCH HE WAS ANNOYING ME.

Many a Thanksgiving since then, the brawl is brought up. I’m always quick to point out how I dominated. Mike is quick to challenge me to a rematch. Now an inch taller and several kegs heavier than me, I politely decline. I’ve retired with an undefeated Turkey Day record of 1-0 with 1 TKO.

Thanksgiving is now all about family and food. But year from now when our families gather together for the feast, I can’t wait to tell Mike’s kids how Uncle Matt whooped their daddy many Thanksgivings ago. And for that, I am thankful in advance.

I’m sorry, I used to be much stronger

With the winter weather arriving in Erie before the calendar turned December, I decided it was time to scrap the outside running routine. I don’t like running in the cold to begin with, but running on ice and snow-covered roads in the dark of night? I’ll pass.

So, I considered my options, and eventually decided to shell out the money to join Best Fitness. It’s less than a 10-minute drive from my apartment, relatively cheap, and nice facility. Still, it was a bit overwhelming as I walked in the doors for my first workout last night.

Since college, my workouts have consisted of running outside or on the treadmill in my parents’ basement with some pushups and abdominal work thrown in for good measure. Very simple. Very basic. Free. And enough to keep me in relatively good shape. After all, I wasn’t training for anything in particular, just trying to maintain a respectable level of fitness.

Back in high school—I’d say I was in the best shape of my life between sophomore and junior year training for Prep basketball—I belonged to Joe’s Gym. It was my first experience with weightlifting, and so it was all I knew. It was a good experience, but it was a powerlifting gym. Suffice it to say the majority of people there were not basketball players. It was cool to lift in the same place where guys were doing 800-pound deadlifts and 500-pound bench presses, but it was a little embarrassing to then “load” the bar next to them with one small plate on each side.

My strength did increase throughout high school, even if my body type did not. That wasn’t a huge issue for me. I’m was OK not looking like Brock Lesnar. So, I never really lifted during my college years.

Fast forward to yesterday—a year and a half out of school and a good five-plus years removed from a regular lifting routine—and my first foray into Best Fitness. I started in my comfort zone on the treadmill. The first mistake I made was forgoing the stretching period before the workout. I’m a big proponent of stretching, and always did it prior to working out at home.

Maybe it was the environment, being surrounded by so many other people, but I didn’t stretch a muscle and picked out a treadmill. Immediately, I was impressed. It had a touch screen to set up the running regimen I wanted, and a jack for my iPod. Very cool. I decided to run a 5K, and ran it surprisingly smoothly. Again, maybe it was the atmosphere—big screen TVs in front of me and plenty of people to watch—but the time flew by.

I was feeling good. I had completed my first run in two weeks (thanks, snow). It was time to towel off and give the weightlifting a shot. I didn’t have a routine in mind. I just sort of picked and chose between free weights and machines depending on what appealed to me, trying to work different muscle groups. All in all, I probably spent about an hour lifting. My body had that good tired-sore feeling you get that tells you it’s been worked out. With that, I called it a night.

Fast forward to 4 a.m. this morning when I woke up out-of-nowhere to the feeling of a sore left arm. I was unable to fully straighten it. I went back to bed before my alarm roused me at 7. Unfortunately, the arm problems remained. I took some Advil and did my best to stretch it, but it’s been a nuisance all day.

I think I either overexerted myself on bicep curls or simply did them with improper form. The fact that it’s only one arm has me wondering if it’s the latter. In any case, I’m likely to be sore for at least a few more days, which will probably keep me from establishing any sort of lifting routine this week. Oh well. Let’s hope for a quick recovery and no lingering effects. That way I can get back to Best Fitness to try and work on my own best fitness.

At 24, I think it’s safe to say my dream of playing in the NBA isn’t coming true. Still, I just don’t like the idea of living unhealthily. I also don’t like living in pain. Unfortunately, my quest to stay healthy is, at least temporarily, actually the cause of the pain. Hopefully I can remedy that cause and effect relationship, but first I need to remedy this arm trouble.

Come for the writing, stay for the games

Check along the right sidebar. I've added a couple of widgets to give you something fun to do on the blog (in addition to reading my posts, of course!)

Blogger has thousands of widgets to add. I settled on sudoku and crossword puzzles for now. So, whether you like numbers or words, your bound to be satisfied. Enjoy!

The Apt Art Update

In a previous post, I wrote about the lack of art in my apartment. I’m pleased to say that is no longer the case. My dad responded promptly, bringing over two small wall pieces that I now proudly display. The pieces are actually older than me, which is pretty cool. And they look great (of course).

Because of their size, they weren’t hung above the TV, couch or dinner table—the three areas with the most empty white space—but they fit perfectly where they are. One hangs on the small connecting wall between my I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-closet kitchen and my bedroom. The other is on the wall right next to where the door of my apartment opens. The door is always closed when people, so the piece will be in plain view for visitors.

As for the empty spaces, I have some thoughts, ideas, and wishes, but my dad gave me some perspective. He told me not to be in a rush to fill space for the sake of filling it. “I believe it may be worth waiting and finding something that really interests you and investing in that thing,” he said. “I think you will know what I mean if you look at the work as something personal and not as decoration.”

So, that’s the plan. I’m not going to buy art for art’s sake, but I’m definitely keeping my eyes open for something that speaks to me on a personal level. Maybe I’ll find something in time for Christmas. Maybe not until 2009. But like the furniture choices before, I want to make sure I’m getting something I’m going to be satisfied with for the long haul.

In the meantime, I do have some other plans in mind continue making the apartment feel home. Family photos are my next priority because nothing makes me feel home more than my family. I have a frame from Hallmark. Now I just need to fill it with smiling faces. So, Mom, Dad, Mike, Jeff, Molly, get me a nice pic soon or else you’re at my mercy as far as photo selection goes.

Another idea (courtesy of Jessie) is to get a floor plant to go next to my TV. Growing up, we never had a lot of indoor plant life at home, but it might be a nice way to liven things up. Of course, it does add one more chore for me. Unless I get a fake plant. And then there’s the rapidly approaching Christmas season. It’s my favorite season, so I’m going to have to do SOME decorating. But, my rule is not until after Thanksgiving. So I’ll save that for a future post.

Things I Miss: Mom’s Free Laundry Service

Chores are definitely one of the cons of apartment living. When I was one of six inhabitants at home, it was pretty easy to get away with doing little or nothing to help around the house. Now that I’m all alone, I don’t have that luxury.

If I don’t cook, I don’t eat. If I don’t do the dishes, the sink fills up with nastiness. If I don’t take out the garbage, I have to live with the smell. If I don’t vacuum and clean, dirt and dust become my unruly roommates.

But perhaps the chore that I most took for granted was laundry. My mom dominated the laundry cycle. If you put a shirt in the hamper in the morning, there was a good chance you could be wearing it fresh again after school. My dad kicked in and helped a lot, too. I learned how to do laundry, and actually probably helped more than my siblings. Still, I could probably count the number of laundry rotations I did per year on two hands.

So most of the time, I had someone doing my laundry for me. And do you know what it cost me? Nothing. My mom would probably call it the labor of love. But let’s be honest, she was spoiling me (not that I ever complained).

The dirty details: I was down to my next-to-last pair of clean underwear this weekend. My pop-up hamper was overflowing. Finally, I had to face the facts. It was laundry time, like it or not.

It’s not because I’m lazy. OK, that’s a lie. It’s partly because I’m lazy and partly because I’m cheap. It costs $1 for every wash cycle and $0.75 more for every dry cycle of laundry. So I’m in no hurry to rush dirty laundry through. It does make me extra careful about clothing selections though.

I’m sure my mom would be happy to let me use the washer and dryer at home. She’d probably even rotate it for me. But I know this is an area where I have to turn away the kindness in favor of learning responsibility. Just don’t expect to see the T-shirt I wore yesterday to resurface until December.

Another Reason to Hate Snow

If it were up to me, we’d get a nice dose of snow the week of Christmas. It would melt by the New Year, and that would be the end of winter. But, since I’ve lived in Erie all my life and made no real attempt to go anywhere else, I should probably stop complaining.

Of course, I probably won’t stop. I just don’t like snow. It means it’s cold outside. Nowadays that means I have to turn the heat My feet are always freezing no matter what socks or shoes I wear. It takes longer to drive everywhere. And my morale is just generally lower.

I’m a summer lover. Still, I’ve come to appreciate spring and fall. Winter is a different story—one I’d prefer not to read. It’s technically another month before winter even begins, but it made a cameo Monday morning with a fresh snowfall greeting me for my morning commute.

Worse than that, it threw a serious wrench into my workout routine. When I was home, I turned to the treadmill around September/October. In my apartment, there is no treadmill, so I’ve been running outside. There were a few cold and rainy runs, but all in all, it was bearable. However, I had to draw the line at snow.

There’s no way I’m going out for a run in the dark in the snow. So, I’m left being a bum. I guess the solution is to invest in a gym membership. I’m reluctant to shell out $20 a month, or whatever it costs, just to run on a treadmill a few times a week. But I also don’t want to go dormant for the winter. I tried that strategy during college, and I still don’t think I’ve ever gotten back into tip top shape.

So, now that snow is costing me money—potential gym membership plus heating costs—I’m even more inclined to hate it. At least winter means basketball season. There ya go: optimism.