While the rest of New England zombies out to latest itineration of Patriots fool’s ball football game I have a different habit.
Instead of spectating others being physical, I go and be physical myself instead.
I’d go to the gym in the past, and now instead of that I found myself lifting in the yard around kickoff time. Though I don’t have a gym membership I’m still going and doing something other than watching.
I’ve always figured it better to go be big and athletic myself than watch others doing so.
In high school I ran sprints Sundays at a playground.
College age and post college age it’s usually the weights instead.
There’s just no draw in watching for me. Relatives will tell me my disinterest is sad, yet in reality it’s their interest that is.
My best football memories were all out in the yard, at a playground, or pickup games with family or friends or friends and/or random people respectively. In fact the deep man to man conversations with a certain friend all involved that playground and a pigskin in hand, these wouldn’t have happened in front of a television screen.
Hell, another alternative…instead of watching football I’d rather go play rugby (the nearest adult action taking equivalent for most, because sadly tackle football pickup games are rare).
(At least soccer hooligans bring the ruckus…and do it in person instead of zombified in front of a screen.)
I actually typed this post workout while enjoying a 12oz glass bottle cream soda, which frankly I earned far more having had hit 10×10 military presses than if I’d been doing the same (probably in a much larger quantity) while watching the game dumb and sloth like.
That shit is hilarious, and just may have been today’s lifting music. However I’m admitting nothing.