Friday Morning

No, CC and Baby Kitty are on the back porch. I don't know why, maybe some birds on the patio. But Luvie is purring at the foot of the bed while I drink coffee, have my devotions, and do some sermon prep. Yeah, life is good.

Thursday I was back at Advanced Fitness for some more therapy. Once more, we did everything we had done the day before but added a few new moves. I left feeling upbeat and ready to hit the pool. John even called and said he wanted to swim, and believe it or not, he showed up. He showed up late, but he showed up.

I told him he needed to write out his funeral instructions and that the preacher should be at least half way through the sermon before his body is wheeled into the service. He really should be late for his own funeral. His response was, "Well, you'll preach it. Patsy's too."

The shoulder started feeling a little gimpy late in the swim so I tapped earlier than I intended. I thought to swim 2,400, but instead stopped at 2,100. With the rehab and the swim, I was good. By the grace of God, I hope to swim again today.

I have a lot on tap for this beautiful Friday. I need to drink more coffee, go to the cleaners and the bank, do some carpentry work on Mom's ramp, swim, take a nap, do my home rehab, work in the yard, grade papers, do some more sermon prep, and of course take my wife out to eat tonight. This is what I do when I don't do anything. And I need to take the dogs out for some fun and exercise. Maybe tomorrow.

Grace to you. 

Double

I pulled off back to backs yesterday. Since I had to cancel therapy Tuesday because of our SACS visit, it was rescheduled for Wednesday. I went in and the therapists had me do everything we did Friday plus some new stuff. When it was all over, I felt pretty worked out on the right side, and the shoulder really is getting better. I now believe, fully, that I will totally recover and be able to do some all-day swimming in the future.

Then she sent me to the back for "the good stuff" as she called it. Friday, "the good stuff" was some kind of machine she rubbed over my shoulder over and over and the thing slowly warmed making my deltoid feel loved. Wednesday it was some electrodes another person hooked up to the shoulder and then she began shocking me. I jumped like a cat with his tail stepped on when the first bolt hit me. Not that it hurt, but I wasn't expecting it. Then she draped a huge bag of ice over all that and turned the machine on and left. The whole thing was so relaxing that I snoozed pretty quickly.  

When I left there, I called John. He didn't want to swim. What?!?!? That is three times this week he has said, "No." But he keeps asking me when we can go three or four hours. Dude, I am thankful to be able to go forty-five minutes right now. The last time we swam together, he kept pushing me, and I swam too much and it set the shoulder back. I plan not to let that happen again.

At the pool, I swam an easy 2,300 meters with the last set being 1,300 straight. That is the farthest straight swim since Chicot in June, and I feel almost well enough now to begin dreaming again, to open up Google Maps and start planning swims. That is just one of the things about this injury: it killed my ability to dream. But the dreams are coming back. I am thinking of Chicot VII; I am dreaming of Lake Pickwick and the Tennessee River; I am scheming on the major watershed lakes of north Mississippi. It takes a certain amount of health and audacity to dream those kinds of dreams. At least for me it does. And a boat, it helps to have a boat. I have one but it is a project.

So I had a good day Wednesday and I plan a bigger one today. Not much larger but just 100 more meters at the pool and whatever the therapist throws at me. Thank you, Jesus, for healing and hope and happiness.

More Comeback

Monday I went to the pool and the water had cooled to 85. The temps have not gone down so that means we have hit that tipping point where the nights are so long that the water won't get any warmer. From now on, the water temps will slowly fall getting cooler and cooler. They will average around mid-fifties through much of the winter bouncing up and down with the weather.

I was alone, as usual, and I felt pretty good. I swam 2,100 with the longest set being an easy 600 meters. After my swim, I did some rehab work at Plate City. Besides the band exercises which focus on the corator tuff muscles, I did some super light bench presses. These were a little better than Saturday's. I did 

16 X 12
12 X 45
10 X 50
10 X 50

Tuesday I made it back to the pool for 2,200 meters. The water had dropped a half degree. I swam the last set as an easy 800. Once more, I hung out with the hounds and rehabbed the shoulder at Plate City. This time on the bench I did

13 X 45
15 X 50
16 X 55

The shoulder is no longer tight at the bottom of each rep. Still, I am doing these slowly and I don't know how they would feel if I did them fast.

Today, I am scheduled for a session with the physical therapist. After that I hope to have another session in the pool. I'll give you three guesses as to what I have planned. Yep, you got it. I hope to swim 2,300. I am determined not to go up over 100 meters per session at least until I get to 3,000. If I can do 3,000 without suffering any negative repercussions,  I think I can then began to train again. What I am doing now is not training but rehabilitation.

The Shoulder

Update: the shoulder is better, better enough to make me think it will, as the doc said, "Go all the way."

Friday I had my first official physical therapy session. I have been gently working it on my own, but at 10:00 am this Friday past I was at Advance Fitness for my first appointment. The first thing the therapist did was ask a bunch of questions, and test my corator tuff by having me push and pull from several positions. Then she went to the twisting and pulling in and out and up and down. All of that made me feel better because I had no pain and the pulling out. I was once afraid that I had labrum damage because it would sometimes hurt when I was simply walking. I thought that was because the shoulder was trying to pop out of socket when the impact of my steps jarred it. Now I think it was just the jarring on the biceps tendons.

Anyway, after the testing, she started working me out. The first thing I did was that arm bicycle thing. I liked that because it was an aerobic workout on my arms and chest muscles. That would be great for dryland work for a swimmer in the winter. I did make a similar machine with an old bicycle frame that Leflore Steel modified for me. I hooked that thing to a trainer and hung it on the power rack at Plate City Gym. But that contraption is difficult to put up and down. I can't leave it out all the time because the chain will rust on the bicycle and the trainer will ruin. Not only that, but I have to reach a lot to grab the peddles. Still, I like the concept, and I'm always looking for ways to boost the fitness of my swimming muscles out of the water during the winter when a proper quantity of swimming is impossible.

Next, she brought out one of those bands and started me on external, then internal rotations followed by exercises that had my straight arm pulling from the front to the back and then from the back to the front. That was also nice because I could feel those muscles, especially the external rotations, being worked for the first time in a long time. She had me do some stretching, and then gave the shoulder to a sonogram treatment. She ran that thing around and around the deltoid while it became warmer and warmer. She then sent some exercises home with me so I left feeling that it was worth the time and expense and my confidence is starting to come back.

Saturday, I swam early and felt good doing it. In late afternoon, I did my rehab exercises plus some additional work in the backyard such as bench pressing, lateral raises, and dumbbell curls all with extremely light weights, of course. When I tried the same exercises on the left arm, I was a little surprised at how much difference there was in the strength of the two appendages. But what can I expect? For weeks, I did nothing with the right arm except carry it around like a dog does his tail. Even of late, I baby it. But why not. It is mine and I like it. I want it to be well and happy.So it will take a while to regain the lost strength. 

I am a little concerned about the corator tuff muscle that is responsible for external movement. It is the weakest of all of them and gets a little uncomfortable when it is worked. I think this is where the ripping sound came from when I picked up that concrete pad. To this day, it does not like to be stretched, in fact I won't even think about doing that. It is the weak link in my shoulder at this point. But things are changing. I am now thirteen weeks into this thing, my confidence has risen, and I am not taking health or recreation for granted. Let us be determined not to do that. We can lose our health in an instant. Every second we have it, we are blessed. Thank You God for all of Your goodness towards the sons of men.

9/18 - 9/24

It was a better week all the way around. Besides the usual, I trained a little, visited a doctor and a physical therapist, and I preached Jo Barrentine Barne's funeral which was both a sorrow and well as an honor. 

Monday I went to the orthopedist and he gave me another shot-- this one in the back of the shoulder-- and prescribed some physical therapy. I felt really good after that visit, and I firmly believe I am now on the road to recovery. 

Tuesday I was at Twin Rivers alone. John was supposed to meet me there at 3:30. He didn't show. I swam an easy 1,700 in 84 degree water. That's a pretty nice temp for this time of year. I also mowed the front lawn and got in .88 of a mile walking.

Wednesday I was back in the water. This time I only swam 1,100. The shoulder was a little gimpy. The water had warmed to 86. 

Thursday the shoulder felt better and swam another 1,700 with one 400 at the end.

Friday morning I had my first physical therapy session. I do not like to do anything before a funeral, but I didn't want to cancel the appointment. I thought I was getting Trey Hodges, but they farmed me out to a young woman who looked to be about the age of my granddaughter. Despite her youth, I found her competent, unhurried, and unafraid to touch me. That is one of my sister's bugaboos. Recently, I looked in the mirror and saw my right carotid artery bulging from my neck, pulsating with every heartbeat. I went to my physician, and he was not concerned but he did order an ultrasound "just to be sure." When my sister asked about my doctor's visit, she asked if he examined my neck. The fact is that I have seen one doctor and had an ultrasound and not one person has put a single finger on my throat. "No one touches anyone anymore," she exclaimed in frustration. 

Well, my PT was not afraid to push, pull, and twist on my upper arm. That made me feel better because none of that produced any pain. I was thinking at one point that I had a torn labrum. Now, I think not. Anyway, she worked me out thoroughly but gently and sent me home with appointments for next week and some exercises to do on my own.

Saturday after some sermon prep, I swam in the morning. I did 2,000 and the pace was a little better even though I am not focusing on that at all. The water remained a pleasant 86 degrees. After that, I took a couple of naps, watched some football, and then went out late in the afternoon for my shoulder workout. I added some to the routine. I did some bench presses thusly:

15 X 8 dumbbell
10 X 45
10 X 45

I felt the benches at the bottom. It was tight the last few inches and if I went up or down quickly, I felt some discomfort. Other than that, it was all good. I also did a couple of sets of the Swim Pull:

30 X 18
31 X 18 plus a washer

Sunday I woke up for the first time in thirteen weeks without pain. The pain has not been bad, but the first few movements of every day have been either painful or uncomfortable. After church, I did my shoulder routine again and some more bench presses. This time I did

16 X 10
12 X 45
10 X 50
10 X 50

It was better than the day before. I did them all slowly, but I felt no tightness at the bottom of the bar drop. I did one set on the Swim Pull of 40 X 18. That felt like a real exercise set, almost like training.

For the week, I swam four times for 6,500 meters. I walked 3.57 miles, and I sort of lifted weights two times. Thank the Lord, for this was much better than last week, and I hope to ease the swimming up some this time.

Installment Two of Comeback Five

The second installment of comeback five was a little disappointing. John was supposed to meet me there at 3:30 so I went to the pool at 4:00. Guess what. No, he was not late; he didn't even show. Again.

I had the place all to myself once more and I loved that. The shoulder didn't hurt, but I felt it some and that always makes me back off. Sometimes I wonder if I should try to push on, but wisdom tells me to err on the side of caution. If I have been erring, I've been doing lots of it.

The water had risen to 86 and my guess is it will be 87 maybe 88 today. It is almost up there with summer time temps. The month started with below average temperatures and now we hare having above average. But if you put the two together, we are about average. At least the swimming is still good and the grass is slowing its growth rate. That is one of the things I love about the fall. When I mow the lawn now, it means something, it lasts a bit.

I swam 1,100 with nothing over 100 at a time. I also picked up a pretty big pile of rocks off the bottom. If I hadn't done that over the years, there would be no pool, but only a big pit of pebbles and stones. Who does that? It makes me wonder if I am living two lives at once. I am an old man swimming and a young boy throwing rocks into the pool at night? Well, I haven't caught myself doing it so I am claiming innocence, at least for now.

The training? I shouldn't even call it that. The rehabilitation is better and more accurate terminology. I plan to try again today but am not expecting much. Tomorrow I am supposed to start the professional rehabilitation with the physical therapist. I look forward to that. Thank you Lord for hope.

Comeback Five

Yep, I started comeback number five. After a full week off (again!) and another trip to the doctor, I began Monday night with a little personal rehab in my bedroom. You know it's easy if I do it in the bedroom. I did three sets of lateral raises with one pound weights, three sets of one-arm bent rows with five pounds, and three sets of bicep curls with five pounds. Don't say I'm overdoing it because a ninety-year old paraplegic could do more weight than that. I am simply trying to prevent any further atrophy of my muscles until the physical therapist can give me some direction. He is supposed to do that Friday morning.

In the past when I have done this workout (all two times), I always managed to hurt myself in some way the same day so that I didn't know the effect of my rehab. The shoulder was always gimpy the next day but I couldn't be sure why. Tuesday morning it seemed OK so I planned a trip to the pool. John cancelled on me (boy was I surprised), but I went in and did an easy 1,700 meters. The water had warmed back to 84 degrees so it felt really nice. Sunshine splattered all over the place making the pool bright as well as my mood. Not only that, but I had the place all to myself. I love that. What's not to love. Now I plan to go again this afternoon for maybe 2,000 or so. We'll see, but what I am not going to do is another 3,000 like I did the day I swam with John. That was last Monday. He always pushes me which is good when I am healthy and training for something. Now, however, is not the time to push, but it's the time for restraint.

I just found out that I am preaching Sister Jo's funeral. That means I will keep the swim this afternoon very short and will go home and pray and study. I am not surprised. In fact, I wrote the rough outline to her funeral last night even though I did not know they would call me to do the service. Thank you, Jesus.

9/11 - 9/17 (and The Shoulder)

I did it again. Or I didn't do it again. Another week of almost no training has passed, a week I cannot get back. Life is like that. You have one shot at a day, one at a week, one at a month, one at a life. When it is gone it is gone for good. Mostly. If we die in Christ, our works do follow us.

Monday I met John at the pool and swam 3,000 meters. The next day the shoulder was a gimpy and for that and some other reasons I was out of the water the rest of the week. 

One reason I was out was illness. I had a sore throat and a low-grade fever for several days. Then John and Gerald and I went to an Alabama football game. I will tell you about that trip later. For now, lets chat about the shoulder.

Yes, I have been visiting a physician, an orthopedist, in case you were wondering. I thought about going back to see my cousins wife, the one who put my left arm back on after it fell off. I chose to stay local because I am working now and deep down I believed I was going to require surgery to fix this one. The whole thing has been a little frustrating. Forgive me, Lord for that lie. The whole thing has been driving-me-crazy frustrating. On the first trip, the doctor gave me steroid shots in both sides of my shoulder. Ouch! I was six weeks after the injury when I had that first appointment. I did learn something on that trip. I learned that my shoulder joint is basically in good shape meaning I have no obvious arthritis. He gave me the shots and told me to come back in three weeks.

Three weeks later, I was back and better but far from healed. He said come back in three weeks, that we were only three weeks in, and most likely it would completely heal. That is where my frustration began, a frustration I have felt before dealing with medical people. When I reminded him that we were nine weeks in (I injured the shoulder on June 26th) he argued with me. That made me angry. In the past, I have had doctors display this attitude: nothing is official until you enter their examination room. So for him it was three weeks but for me, for reality, it was nine weeks. That's a big difference when you are an athlete and are lounging around depressed and growing fat. Then he told me to come back in three weeks. Who woulda thunk it?

The second three-week comeback was yesterday, September 18th. Before hand, I did lots of praying. I asked God to guide his mind. If I needed an MRI, let him suggest that. If not, well God, You are the Great Physician. This visit was better, and this time I left not frustrated but hopeful. He at least pretended to listen to me and he didn't argue when I told him I was concerned to be twelve weeks in and not well. He mentioned two options: 1) MRI, and 2) something else. Something else was, "What I want to do," he said, "is shoot you again, order four weeks of physical therapy two times per week, and see you after that. If that doesn't do it, I can order the MRI."

I liked that. It sounded reasonable and restrained. And MRIs are expensive. I have only had one and it took a year to pay off what the insurance didn't cover. He went on to tell me that when shoulders make significant improvement, they usually go all the way and totally heal and yes he was trying to save an expensive MRI. So I was happy and hopeful and I took my physical therapy prescription and drove straight to Advanced Fitness to set up the first session with Trey Hodges, a PT who has worked with my mom so I have good feeling about him. I am happy now and am praying and trusting God to get me there. 

That night, Monday, Penny and I went to an over 60s meeting at First Baptist in Itta Bena. We had a nice time and ate some good fish. After the meeting, which was mostly a social, I spoke with the pastor, Brother Harrington. He had mentioned diabetes and I told him it was an issue with me and I would be praying for him. I also told him about my swim and my shoulder. He prayed for me right then and there and I felt the Holy Spirit as strong as I ever have in any Pentecostal church. I left there determined to believe God that He would get me through this.

I am doing everything in my power to get it right because it is time to at least begin dreaming about Chicot Challenge VII. I apologize to You, God, for my lack of faith. But I needed some good news, a change of attitude, an upswing in my mood. I am there and by faith I will stay there. I will work like it depends on me and pray like it depends on You.

The Need to Play

Yeah, the coffee is pretty good, and CC has been on my lap most of the morning. I just finished an hour of sermon preparation. I'll do more later. Right now, I want to peck on the computer.

I woke up this morning in the wee hours, and I was dreaming when I drifted from sleep back into consciousness. My subject was the motivation of my obsessive behaviors, or at least one motivation. I may have written on this before. Maybe, I'm not sure. Pecking on the keyboard is therapeutic for me so I will write without doing a search on former posts in EndangeredSwimmer. 

In years past, I rode my bicycle crazy distances. One year, 2010, I did 37 rides of 100 or more miles the longest being 174 in one day. For several years I did one day journey runs going the marathon distance or more over and over and over. Once, I did a five-day run. And then there is swimming, the all-day swimming. I have worked that up to sixteen hours, to 23.5 miles.

I really do have more than one motivation for this behavior, and I am convinced that it is part of my nature, part of the way God made me. But my dream this morning was about something I had previously identified and may have mentioned a time or two. Part of my drive to do these things lies in the face that I am attempting to regain something lost in my childhood. In short, I am trying to play and trying to recapture that feeling of freedom I experienced so much and always took for granted when I went out to play as a little boy. 

Do you ever have it? experience it? seek it? that feeling of freedom? For me it is delicious, precious, and rare, and the older I get the more rare it becomes. Part of becoming an adult, of course, is self-discipline and dependability. You have to do stuff, a lot of stuff, a lot of the time. There is always a schedule and staying married and remaining employed is contingent upon keeping schedules. Even now, on my day off, I have an index card on the bed beside me with a list of things I need to accomplish today. I'd rather tear the card up, put my running shoes on, and head out Money Road for the day. But presently, I am neither fit enough nor healthy enough to make the effort. And the list remains.

Sigh.

But I still want it, want that feeling that I am free, that there is no schedule, and that I have to answer to no one. I want the wind in my face, the sun in my eyes, and the long road under my shoes. I suspect it must have been much the same for Adam and Eve after being exiled from the Garden of Eden. Only after losing paradise could paradise have been truly appreciated just like only after growing up do we realize how magically wonderful childhood was. So my yearning to play is really just the cosmic urge of mankind to return to his roots, to the Garden God made us for. But according to the Bible, it is not a Garden we will go to but a city. God will make all things new, remove the curse, and bring the city of God to earth. I suspect a big part of heaven will be the the incredible sense or our freedom, our release from sin, sickness, and death.

In the meantime, some of us keep trying to scratch an itch only God can cure with temporary fixes and that is OK. OK if we realize where the real answer is. The real answer is in Jesus, in his eternity. But meanwhile, he has "put eternity in the heart of man" (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

Sam Slapping Haikus

171
Sam struggles hard 
trying to write a haiku,
one day I'll teach him.

172
truck stops on bridge,
morning glory grows to edge,
big gator goes down.

173
fresh turned ground 
borders pasture with tall tress,
lambs lie in shade.

Signs and Wonders

"It's a judgment from God."

I've heard this expressed from people as disparate as televangelist to liberal, atheist activist. Despite the words of Jesus that alerted us to signs and wonders, I paid little attention until recently. Jesus, speaking of the end of the age, uttered these the following among others on the topic: 

     And there will be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars, and          upon the earth distress of nations with perplexity; the sea and the waves          roaring. (Luke 2:15) KVJ

Sound familiar? We recently had a solar eclipse (sun and moon), over a hundred huge wildfires raging out West (distress of nations); back to back huge hurricanes made landfall on the US (the sea and the waves roaring), a few days ago, Mexico suffered a 8.2 earthquake (another sign Jesus gave of his return), and then it happened. IT happened. I was shaken, startled, stunned. 

I was supposed to meet John at the pool Monday afternoon at 3:30. I got out of bed and drove over to Twin Rivers to swim alone. Then it happened. IT happened. When I drove up, I saw John's car sitting in the parking lot. What?!?!?!?!? What is going on? Why is he here? Is something wrong? Does he have bad news? I looked up to see if Jesus was in the sky. I hope I don't sound sacrilegious saying that because that is neither my nature nor my intent. But my surprise was off the charts, off the chain, over the top. I think this is the first time ever in four years.

Notice John in the background.

The water was 78 degrees foreshadowing the coming fall feeling nippy starting out but wonderful once the body was warmed up. This was one of the few times I have swum with John all summer and it was nice. I just poodled up and down the pool for 3,000 easy meters, my best since the shoulder saga began. Both I and the shoulder felt good, but I still don't feel strong and fit and like a porpoise. It will return. If John can be on time, anything can happen. 

Meanwhile, I am in class, we are journal writing, and I am wondering what signs and wonders I could hear about if only I had access to the news right now. Oh well, praise the Lord anyway. Thank you Jesus for the rain. John and I are supposed to meet again rain or no rain. Will either of us show? Stay tuned.

For a While (9/11)

My mind tired of working through Hebrew flashcards and somewhere just south of Batesville, Mississippi, I put the cards on the empty passenger seat and turned the radio on. The little blue Nissan I drove that day had only an old fashioned push button radio, but instantly I was bombarded with the Twin Towers struck, the plane down in a field somewhere, the Pentagon attacked, and the White House on fire. Yes, I later learned that the White House report was erroneous, but that is the what I heard that morning.

My mind wobbled. I turned off I 55 and stopped at a gas station in Batesville. I went into the bathroom and heard two men come in. They were chatting about golf. To talk of such a trivial matter as that at a time like this, I thought, meant they had no clue as to what was happening in New York City and Washington, DC. I was almost giddy with the idea that I would be the first one to inform them. Still, I don't know whether or not to be ashamed of this or not. I don't know why I felt that way. The whole affair had me reeling and I couldn't wait to tell them.

Back on the interstate, my ear was glued to the radio as I heard the DJ talking live with someone in New York.

"The tower just fell down."

"What do you mean?" the DJ asked.

"It fell down."

"What do you mean it fell down."

"It fell down. It collapsed."

"What do you mean it collapsed?"

"It fell down."

He didn't get it and neither did I. The DJ couldn't comprehend the words he was hearing.

When I reached my destination, Mid-America Baptist Theological Seminary in Germantown, Tennessee, I flew straight upstairs as fast as my feet would carry me to the Doctoral Studies Room. This was our little cave of scholarship. As usual, my fellow students were engrossed in reading books, writing papers, prepping for class. I let it fly out of my mouth that the USA was under attack, the Twin Towers both had fallen by then, the Pentagon was on fire as was the White House itself. No one paid me the least bit of attention. That's the way it was when we were PhD students. We lived the a little cocoon of a world, a universe of Hebrew words and theological arguments and scholars no one else had ever heard of. We couldn't be bothered. But for a while I was. Bothered. Drawn out. Shaken.

            Yet once more I shake not the earth only, but also heaven.
                                                                  Hebrews 12:26b KJV

9/4 - 9/10

No week is nothing if it has God in it. But as far as training goes, two weeks ago was almost nothing. And that kind of nothing always leads to something: an expanded waistline. 

Since Monday was Labor Day, we had a much needed day off work that the wife and I spent at Hillbilly Heaven. I did a little bit of walking there (1.61 miles) and too much eating.

Tuesday I did nothing. ?!?!?!?

Wednesday I made my way to the pool at Twin Rivers and swam 1,700 meters and also snuk in a little bit of walking (.7).

Thursday I did the Delta FITT thing and got some leg work in there then went back to the pool for 2,100 meters. The water felt like it was 79 or 80. Nice.

Friday, Penny and I went to Jackson where we both ate too much and sat a lot. Then Saturday, beside mowing the lawn, I felt like it was time to attempt some very light upper body work at Plate City. On the bench I did

10 X 8 (dumbbells) Yea, you read that right.
10 X 45 (barbell)
11 X 45

The bench felt OK but I was just a little tight at the bottom. On the Swim Pull I did 

20 X 16.5
25 X 18

One Arm Bent Row

10 X 8 (yeah, that's right)

Lateral Raise

10 X 3
10 X 3
11 X 3

It wasn't much in volume or weight, but at least it was a start. I can no longer watch my right arm shrivel away. The wasting must stop.

Later in the day, I felt sorry for the dogs so we went to the pond. They haven't made that trip since late May and they have been begging to go somewhere. I called David and he said D10 would not be good to swim, but suggested PD 29 instead. Since that was the pond Randy Beets and I made famous, nostalgia pulled me out there in a hurry. When we arrived, they had just fed and the water was being churned like a bunch of piranha devouring a dead mule. I did some walking and thinking. Eventually, I did wade in to swim and took two strokes. On the second stroke, my right ram crashed into a fish causing a huge and sudden dose of pain in that shoulder that has been my obsession for two and a half months now. I stopped, screamed, and climbed out. Swimming for the day was done.

Bear and Pee Wee at the pond.

For the week, I 

walked 4.62 miles,
lifted weights two times (once upper body and once lower),
and swam 3,800 meters.

Better but still inadequate. Thank the Lord for that much.

Swam Again

The water was cooler when I finally made it back to Twin Rivers Thursday afternoon. I guess about 79 which is why when I drove up the first time, the ladies aerobics class was occupying my pool. Yeah, it's my pool. At least this time of year. I could have swum with them, but I drove back home to wait them out. I'd rather have the place to myself, especially since there are no longer any lane lines so swimming straight is a trick. Ordinarily, they meet at 9:00 a.m. I guess they couldn't take it then. Soon it will be too cool for them even in the afternoon.

Let me back up and tell you about another thing I did before I left work. The Delta FIT Wellness Center is getting ready to open and I jumped through all the hoops to get access to it. That is a small but new gym next door to Horton Building where I teach on Tuesday and Thursday. Why not qualify for access? Currently, I need all the help I can get. So I had to acquire a new ID which has a bar code that will open the door, had to fill out a bunch of paper work, and had to talk to someone-- you know how I am about names. After doing all that, I did some leg work on their nice leg press machine and some extension too. Then I went home. I had hoped to ride out and see Jr., but a text from my sister meant I had no night for swimming. That was later changed, but I didn't know that at the time. I napped a little, got up and drove to the pool only to be turned back by the water-dancing ladies.

At the swimming pit, I tried to take some underwater pictures. Penny gave me a plastic cover thingy for my phone which allows me to submerge the phone and take pics. For some reason, however, it did not want to snap a pic when submerged. I tried several times and finally managed to get a few. I swam

2 X 50
2 X 100
2 X 150
2 X 200
2 X 250
1 X 300
total: 2,100 meters.

My pace was quicker, most likely due to the cooler water. Just like hot days and running, cooler weather brings faster times without any discernible difference in effort.

The shoulder felt good. I pulled with a little more confidence. Thank you, Lord. Comeback number four is on track.

Comeback Four

Being determined not to have another nothing week and with things returning somewhat to normal, I went to the pool yesterday. I'm glad I did. I learned a few things.

One thing I learned is that the kids are done swimming for the year. They usually stop somewhere around this time, but last year it was closer to the middle of the month. How I know is I saw one of the employees stacking the pool chairs. That means the season is winding down. So I took the opportunity to stop on the far end of the pool where she was putting the chairs and ask her if the kids were done. Yes, she said they won't be swimming anymore after school. !!!YEE HAAA!!! That means I can go in anytime now when I get off work and swim without fear of being invaded by 75 screaming children who run and jump with reckless abandon and make lap swimming an impossibility.

I even took the chance to ask about Debbie, the manager, leaving the pool up year round. John has been telling me that she vowed to him that she is not going to drain it. Malia, a full-time worker there who was stacking chairs, said John is correct. Because of the new lining, the pool has to stay full (who knew?) "With chemicals?" I asked, my voice quivering in excitement. "With chemicals," she answered. Hot dog, God does love me.

So now I have more opportunity than ever, and if they get the new pool, the indoor one, built I will have the chance to build fitness to the twenty-four hour level. How about that, Team Centerville? 

Yeah, I know. I promised. But somewhere somehow, I have the inner desire to see how far I can push it. 

I know, I know, after last Chicot I said I found it. I said that I was satisfied and that I would never again swim for sixteen straight hours. But I think there is a little more, a little more in the realm of the possible and slowly the itch to go there is starting to build. Maybe I won't do it a Chicot. My wife has already told me that if I swim in the dark again, I will do it without her. But sometime before I get too old, I want to swim farther. It's nice to dream, at least.

But before I can build that kind of fitness, I have to get well and speaking of well, let me tell you about that. Yesterday was my first swim in, well, let me provide a grand review of my swimming after Chicot. This is the 14th week since I swam for 23.5 miles non-stop. Life has been trying since, but God is always good. Below is a list of weeks that followed Chicot and the number beside the week is the total meters swum within that seven day cycle.

week one - 0
week two - 2,200
week three - 10,100
week four - 0
week five - 0
week six - 0
week seven - 1,200
week eight - 0
week nine - 0
week ten - 2,400
week eleven - 4,300
week twelve - 8,400
week thirteen - 0
week fourteen (this week) - 1,700.

You get the picture. For me, training begins at 10,000 plus and seriously training, Chicot training, begins at 20,000 per week. A quick glance at the list above shows four attempted comebacks (three since injuring the right shoulder). People keep telling me to be patient. I want to Batman slap them. I have been patient. I have been very patient. I have been very very patient. Not only that, but I have been extremely patient. I have been more patient than anyone I know. In fourteen weeks, I could be fully healed and have gone through rehabilitation from having a bone sticking out of my arm. But instead, I am suffering in silence, trying to cope, trying to get my gift back. Maybe that is it. I will begin to quote, pray, and believe 

                 The gifts and callings of God are without repentance.
                                                                 Romans 11:29 KJV.

I believe this swimming is a gift and I have tried to use it to help others. It also helps me and keeps me from getting really crazy.

Yesterday did feel good. The water was cool, maybe 80 or 81. Cool? Yeah. You bathe at 95 to 100. Last time I swam, the water was probably 90 plus. With the rain and the cool nights, the temps have fallen and will likely stay down. When they get into the mid 70s, no one will get in not even at gunpoint.

I like to think this is the comeback that will work. I do know the shoulder is not right, that somethings in there are not fully healed. But I think it needs moving, working, exercising. I have lost strength, range of motion, and of course confidence. And since no one will advise me on rehabilitation, I have to do it myself. I have been moving it to the sticking places and holding it there. I have been doing weightlifting with tiny one pound plates. I have been patient. I have been very patient. Did I mention that I have been patient? I hope you believe me because the idea of Batman slapping someone has been in my mind for at least a month now. God has preserved me and kept me from that sin.

Thank you, Jesus.

Poot and the Great Book Heist

Me an' Poot wanted to be famous but we didn't want nobody to know. That is we wanted to do something nobody had never done before, set a world record, but we wasn't anxious to go to prison which we would if the law ever found out about the stuff we done. We thought for a long time. Like weeks. It took that long considering what all we had already pulled off. Over the years, we had broken into Bankston School and wrecked the place, shot out street lights all over North Greenwood, burned down a dozen houses, and shot cars. That's not even counting sneaking out at night and stealing bicycles only to ride them around and leave them in a ditch somewhere. One time we throwed one off the Fulton Street Bridge into the Yazoo River.

Poot finally come up with the idea to break into a book store. He said, "Ain't nobody never done that not ever not nowhere."

I didn't know but generally I believed Poot because he kept up with stuff like that. We both read newspapers which looking back is kind of amazing since we never read nothing our teachers told us to. Greenwood had a small store downtown on Howard Street. I think it was called The Nook of Knowledge. Poot said if we could get in there and steal some books, the police would think they was looking for some geniuses, and they wouldn't never come anywhere near us. 

I liked the idea. I could just see the headlines in the Commonwealth:

     Evil Geniuses Make Book Heist

     Police Search for Intelligent Robbers

     Crime Has Taken an Upturn in IQ

Everybody would admire robbers like that. I bet the preacher at First United Methodist would even mention it in his sermon like he had the Bankston School incident. He would say a mind like that ought to get saved and serve God. I couldn't wait.

This stuff had me staying awake most nights dreaming of how our deeds would baffle the police and the FBI and how TV shows and movies would be made about it, how all the girls in Greenwood would want to date the robber. But they wouldn't know it was me. That was the part that made me sad. It seems like all the stuff me n Poot's done was secret and nobody knowd we was smart and had done big stuff like that.

Unless we got caught in the act, Poot said, we was scot-free for the rest of our lives. We was sure of that much. But how to get into the store without getting nabbed? Me an' Poot took to riding our bicycles down there and going into the store every day. "Casing the place," is what Poot called it. All good criminals do it. He saw it on TV so it had to be true. 

At first, the book store lady like to have worried us to death trying to find out what kind of books we was looking for. When I said, "Crime," Poot stomped on my bare foot and made me holler a little. Poot told her we was just gettin' ideas for a book report and Christmas presents. She said it was good we was already thinking of Christmas presents and it was only May. "Showed good raisin'," she said.

After that first day, we rode back to my house and talked things over in the back yard. I wanted to go to the river to do our plotting, but Poot said we shouldn't go down there because an operation this serious "couldn't be compromised." I didn't know what "compromised" meant, but I took it that Poot didn't want nobody else knowing what we was up to. He was tight lipped like that and he could keep a secret. That was one of Poot's great qualities. I said if there weren't no bikes down there we could talk freely, but he said you never knowd if someone walked and was hidin' behind a tree listening.

We talked it over and finally decided that the only way into that store was to knock the big front window out. That idea had my stomach churning and diarrhea was coming on. Poot's ideas always give me diarrhea.

"Good gosh amighty, Poot. We'll get caught for sure. 'Specially with us hauling off a load of books in each hand."

Poot thunk awhile. Then he said, "We could knock the window out and then hide and see how long it takes for the police to get there."

"Hide where?"

"We gotta to do more casin'," he answered.

So the next day we was riding all over Howard Street again, and then we found it. There was a ladder on the side of the building in the alley across the street from the bookstore. From there, we could get up on top of the building and watch the police from above.

"What about our bikes?" I asked. "If the police see two bicycles below the ladder, they'll know someone is up there."

"We gotta do more casing."

So we rode back to Howard Street. Again. I was beginning to wonder if people would get so used to seeing us that they would tell the police it was them boys on the bikes. But Poot said unless we got caught red handed, they would never think we could be that smart as to steal books.

We went up and down every alley and then we found the big green dumpster. The plan was to hide our bicycles in the dumpster, bust out the front window, start the stop watch, and climb up on top of the building. We would then know how long it took the police to get there. Poot said we could each get a pillow case full of books and be across the bridge in five minutes. If they took that long to get there, we would be the first folks ever to rob a book store.

So on the dark night of June 3rd, one day after my birthday and one week after school was out, me n Poot met up at Little Red School house at midnight for the Great Greenwood Book Heist as we had took to calling it. We didn't even talk but cycled in silence down the Boulevard and across the bridge. We rode to Ramcat Alley and put our bicycles into the dumpster and then walked to Howard Street and to the Nook of Knowledge. Poot hurled the brick bat through the front glass and we run across the street, into the alley and tried to climb the ladder. The bottom rung was about eight feet off the ground. We thought jumping up there and pulling ourselves up would be not problem. We was wrong.

We couldn't make it. I thought, Poot has done it to me again. He's always getting me in tight spots. I was so scared I was about to pee my pants. Then we saw some big cardboard boxes in the alley. Maybe they was what some refrigerators come in. We climbed in and hid under paper and pieces of boxes. 

Sure enough the police showed up and drove all over the place. They went up and down the alley and we could hear them talking over the radio as they cruised by at maybe one mile per hour. One officer even got out of his car and walked around. We could hear his heals tapping on the asphalt. He stopped a couple of times, but we couldn't see what he was doing. I thought for sure we was done, we was goin' to prison forever. It must have been hours before the place cleared out. Well, at least thirty minutes. I was thinking they would be there all night and our folks would catch us gone in the morning.

Finally, they left and we climbed out of the boxes and run back to Ramcat Alley where we yanked our bikes out of the dumpster and rode as fast as we could over the bridge. Safely inside North Greenwood, we stopped at Little Red, and Poot told me it took the police six minutes to get there. I cursed in my mind because that meant Poot would think we had enough time to pull off the heist, and I didn't want to do it nomore. I went home, crawled back through the window, and didn't sleep for hours.

Like with all our other crimes, I was nervous for weeks. I kept thinking Poot would bring it up, want to go back and do the real thing. First time we got together after that, he come over and we shot basketball in the backyard, but he didn't say nothing about stealing no books. School started back, and I never brought it up and neither did he. Finally, I come to see that we wasn't going to do it. I was awful glad 'cause I think they would of caught us for sure and sent us to prison for forty years or more.

8/28 - 9/3

Nothing.

Almost nothing.

Monday I did nothing.

Tuesday I did nothing.

I think I walked a mile Wednesday, but I'm not sure.

Thursday I did nothing.

Friday I walked .97

Saturday I lifted weights (lower body) and walked .88.

Basically, the whole week was and is a blur of stress and business in my mind. I went to the hospital with Mom. Didn't I? I visited someone else in the hospital. Didn't I? I had a doctor's appointment. Yes, I did. I went to another doctor. This is a first for me, two physicians in one week. This made me feel weird, old, decrepit. I had a sonogram done at the hospital. I preached a funeral. My shoulder took a set back and I'm not sure how.

Whine, whine, whine. I know you think I'm a whiner, but I am. I don't want to be, but I am.

This week will be better. The Lord's mercies remain new every day. 

   17 Although the fig tree shall not blossom, 
   neither shall fruit be in the vines;
   the labour of the olive shall fail; 
   and the fields shall yield no meat,
   the flock shall be cut off from the fold, 
   and there shall be no heard in the stalls:
   18 Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, 
   I will joy in the God of my salvation.
                                                              (Habakkuk 3: 17-8)