Another night of not sleeping

It doesn’t help that my body is ganging up against my brain in an attempted coup of my brain. Even my clavicle is screaming in pain. Every so often a different part will vehemently yell at the disparity of how my body is used or abused.

I thought I was over my bowling obsession. After more than five years of mostly once-a-week bowling, the sleeping giant has awoken. A mere month and some of bowling three to five times a week could be merely the giant coughing and that the giant will resume its docile ways.

But maybe not. My first time snake-bit by bowling, I built my addiction slowly. My first tournament was at the Gay Games in Vancouver, B.C. I practiced so much that my right thumb looked like hamburger. I had built calluses, but blisters were a problem.

I surprised myself to make the first cut, though my bleeding thumb was making it very difficult. Searing pain on every ball.

And then I met Skeeter Lee from Washington. Even though we were bowling against each other, she patched my thumb. No one at Firs Bowl, my main place to bowl, bothered to introduce me to new skin. I wasn’t shy about showing off my big fat thumb as a demonstration of my hard work. I had already become a bowling alley rat. 

I was like that person with the reputation of costing all you can eat joints money.  In return for volunteering my Saturday to coach junior bowlers, I was given free bowling. My eyes must have grown rather large when I was told it was unlimited. 

I was still rather young. My right knee was shot, but the left knee was ready to take the brunt of big knee bends and planting all my weight. Good thing it wasn’t much then. Ray Anderson, one of the best drillers I have worked with, insisted that I only use a twelve pound ball. Gradually I worked my way up to fifteen pounds.

My mind running away with this blog has been a good thing, but the mention of my working my way up in bowling just got my right shoulder screaming about my lack of ergonomics. Writing on my back in bed on my phone using swype will always get the ire of my shoulder. 

It is time for me to attempt a trip to snooze land. I have a bowling clinic in the morning.

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3 comments

  1. Just curious… all the times you go bowling, how much do they charge you for the time you spend there? Is there an hourly fee? A one-time charge? Do you have your own bowling shoes? I can remember going bowling as a kid (we had a bowling alley at the end of our street) and we’d rent the shoes…the guy would pull our size out from the rack behind him and spray something in each shoe. Now that I think back on that, it gives me the creeps!

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