Bum Wheel

As you know, I have this tweaked Achilles thing going right now. I was able to play on it Tuesday, but halfway through the softball game, it acted up on me. This thing is a real bitch, right when I wanted kick up my activity level. I felt real cautious with it on Tuesday, not wanting to further damage anything. And that's a bitch, because I like going all out on the base paths and in the field. Not to mention, just in general, most good things come to those who are aggressively pro-active. Ever heard of an athlete getting hurt because they weren't going 100%? Funny how it happens like that, but the side-effects of my injury have crept into other areas of my life, and I need to nip this general pattern in the bud quick, before it spreads.

A ridiculous example (After review, disturbingly reminiscent of cousin Phil's (www.rockfromtherock.blogspot.com) own health/ automobile dynamic)--- I walked out of the house yesterday to find the back tire on the passenger side of my Jeep Flat. RatFarts. To make matters worse, I had parked in the low spot. That spot marking where an ancient water-main broke, was fixed and then filled with not-enough concrete. In lieu of this summer's drought, the low spot has been just as popular as any other, and as it were, I parked in it right before yesterday's downpour hit. Double RatFarts. As I situated the tire-jack within the lake of mosquito larvae, I cursed the pain-in-the-ass which had befallen me. All those times I avoided rubbing that tire haphazardly along city curbs, near perfect on every parallel park-job, had allowed me to avoid the self-inflicted white wall (usually found on the tires of women city drivers) waiting. And then I got lazy. Once. Lost focus and rode up on the curb, squeezing against the hard place until the tire wall gave. And just like that, one bum wheel turns into two.