Whompdown | 06/16/09
With Chris back in town for a few hours we went to the gym and followed up with a couple games of racquetball. That game is just brutal. Even after playing a few times it become readily apparent (especially in the first game where I managed to lose 21-9) that I have absolutely no idea how the ball caroms off the walls. Absolutely. No. Idea. I swung and missed completely no less than a half-dozen times. I also managed to hit myself in the face with the racket once. The second was more competitive (to use the term competitive loosely) but I still got crushed.
Our time at the gym overlapped the workout time of the Red Sox' minor league team--the A league. First of all, those dudes are huge. It must be nice where your job description is like "Get and stay huge. Spend your millions of dollars." Particularly interesting was them observing our racquetball game. It was a weird role-reversal being watched by soon-to-be-professional athletes.
I was grateful they did not boo me but they were probably too busy wondering how someone who was struggling to lift two 15lb weights over his head could even lift a racket. Whatever.