Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Call Me Popeye

I took the day off last Friday and decided to work in the garden that morning. I was loosening up the dirt in some of the flower beds and realized my fingers weren't going to cut it. I went for the Big Boy. It's like a double-headed tool with a 3-spike claw on one side and a wedge type thing on the other. So there I was, crouching down beside the rose bushes, tearing it up like nobody's business. I had to dodge the occasional dirt clump that came whizzing past my head and squint my eyes to deter the dirt from getting in. After reaching the desired depth, much to my satisfaction, I took a break from "the claw". As soon as I stopped the motion of swinging the tool I felt a tingle in my right forearm. Odd. It felt rather strange and it quickly drew my attention. I glanced over at my arm and noticed that not only was it red, it was extremely tight and all the muscles felt hard as a rock. If my muscles could talk, they would've been screaming out in pain. I almost started to panic thinking I'd been stung by a bee, but I realized it was my own doing that brought on the tingly pain. Oh how the muscles hurt! It felt like my bulging muscles were so taut in my arm that they were going to rip the skin open. (Perhaps I exaggerate, but that's how it felt. Just painting a picture.) There I stood in the middle of the garden with a contorted look on my face and squinted eyes, quickly trying to rub the flaming pain away in my limb, all the while trying to remain calm and relaxed. Did I mistakenly have spinach for breakfast?! That's probably as close as I'll ever get to resembling Popeye.

Maybe that was a sign that those muscles have been dormant for too long.

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