Jeez! How Stupid is this Jackass?

I’m noticing from my previous posts that I spend a lot of time in pain. Most of it falls into the “no pain, no gain” and “no guts, no glory” categories, which is no problem. However, today’s pain chronicle doesn’t fall into either one of these. Today’s pain falls into the “What’s wrong with that old guy?” category. I skipped my leg workout yesterday and did my shoulders instead. I figured I would hit my legs today, rest Sunday, and that would give my lower back time to recuperate. I planned ahead like a 36 year old should. I drove to the gym instead of running so I wouldn’t get stuck on the way home if the unforeseen should happen. I did five minutes on a bike to warm up my knees, and then I headed to the squat racks. I was in the middle of my routine; everything was going fine. Then the unforeseen happened; a couple of kids who play football for Bolles – I know this because their T-shirts told me so – started their routines. They were both big guys. One of them was as big as me, and they were going heavy. Naturally, I had to protect what was mine – the squat area. I try not to exceed a certain amount of weight when I squat. I’ll never set a world record, and I can seriously hurt myself doing heavy squats. Squats are the only exercise that I do more than ten reps in every set. Unfortunately, Chris and Isaiah were in my zone so I went real heavy. I went heavier than I have in more than a year, even though I haven’t done this exercise in about six weeks. I actually put on a weight belt. It was worth it because Chris, the big one, said, “Man, you’re gettin’ low for going so heavy.” The savannah was still mine. I responded, “You’ve got to.” This is where they introduced themselves and I found out their names. At this point I didn’t care about the alpha male stuff – and yes I was irrationally competing with 17 year old boys – it made my day to meet a white gentile named Isaiah under the age of 90. His nickname is Zeke. I told him that was the coolest thing I’d ever heard. We chatted about lifting and football for a bit and then I needed to do my cardio so I could get back home in time for the NCAA tournament. I decided to run on the track today – bad decision. There was a girls running club at the track doing time trials. I should mention that heavy squats hit my hamstrings right where they meet my glutes, and I’ve known this since I was fifteen years old. Strangely enough, just like running. Today was farltek day so I was supposed to be pushing the pace anyway. The girls were doing time trials for a mile. If you’ve read this far you know the chances of me letting a 14 year old girl out run me are what mathematicians call statistically insignificant – aka Z-Ro. The track is big enough so that I wasn’t interfering with them and they weren’t interfering with me – other than I had to run faster than whoever was on the track at the time. I had planned on doing 3 miles and I finished the first mile in a little under 7 minutes – well ahead of the first time trial 14 year old. The second 14 year old started fast, so I had to pick up the pace. My heart said easy buddy and about 200 yards into the lap my left hamstring said, “I’ve been shot!” Yeah, the hammy popped. I didn’t fall down, but I looked like a complete retard. There were about eight 14 year old girls and two coaches – not to mention the people on the riverwalk or the homeless dude resting on the bench – who I pretended didn’t exist as I hobbled back to my car and drove home. I don’t think I tore it, but it hurts like a bastard. I keep hoping that my galactic level stupidity has bottomed out, but I keep finding sub-basements: Lift heavy after six weeks of inactivity in the most dangerous of lifts, run as fast as you can immediately afterwards as a 36 year old man competing with teenage athletes, how could this possibly end badly?