The Dangers of Exercise

Yesterday I arrived at the gym, all ready for another adventure in personal training. First, though, I wanted to get in a little cardio. Two of the treadmills that face the TVs were free, so I picked the one with better proximity to interesting shows--I prefer the news to sports stations--and hopped on.

Big mistake.

Repeat after me--always, always check that some idiot has not left the treadmill running.

I hopped on, and my feet were promptly carried backward. The rest of me, illustrating some lovely rule of physics I'm sure, pitched forward and then down. The brain on board was trying to make sense of this. Why am I falling? Oh, the treadmill is running. Who would get off a treadmill and leave it running? This can't be good. Oh, damn, this is going to hurt.

Then bang, whizz, I'm on the floor.

No personal training for me. Instead I go off to my regular doc and then on to the plastic surgeon for two stitches to go with my assortment of scrapes and bruises.

Novel versus novella

I once heard a non-writer ask why an author would write a novella rather than a novel. My short, non-sexy answer is because the author has a contract for a novella rather than a novel.

My novellas--I'm working on my third now--have all been contracted at 25,000 to 30,000 words. That's roughly a quarter of one of my novels. (My novel contracts have been for 95,000 words--give or take, you understand.) So in writing a novella, I have to limit things: limit the time over which the story takes place, limit the number of characters, and limit the focus to pretty much the hero and heroine.

Progress

Today I start writing the last chapter of the first draft of the new novella. I think I know what the scene will be, but I never know how things will really go until I put the characters together on the page.

We interrupt this program...

I'm trying to get a first draft of a novella finished before Thanksgiving--and before the copy edits come for The Naked King--so blog posts will be sporadic.

In the meantime, here's a link to this hilarious (IMHO) video. Mr. June (who is also one of the singers) is a high school classmate of my third son.

Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAmTZmeStJQ

Summer swim team

Here's my summer swim team, the Glenwood Tigers, from many moons ago. I'm pretty sure I'm the fourth from the right in the front row with the white jacket and the headband.

I was an okay swimmer--not a star by any stretch of the imagination. But I worked hard, learned the strokes, and had fun with my summer friends. Since I went to Catholic school, I didn't see most of these kids during the year. Actually, I'm not sure how many of them saw each other, since I think the pool probably drew from more than one public elementary school neighborhood.

I think one of the greatest things about summer swimming is--assuming the parents and kids don't go all competitive crazy--that it builds community. What other activity brings together boys and girls from ages 3 or 4 (if we include pre-teamers) up to age 18 or 19 as well as parents and often college-aged coaches year after year after year?

Veterans Day

With thanks to all who have served and are now serving our country, and in memory of those who gave their lives.

Swim parents

Swimmer boy is a college senior; my years as a swim parent are coming to an end. Since oldest son was also a relatively serious swimmer through high school, and the middle two sons swam some, I've spent many, many hours on pool decks outdoors, slathered in sunscreen, or indoors, inhaling chlorine-laden air.

Being the parent of a kid in sports is a delicate balance. If you've ever attended a kid sporting event, you've probably seen parents behaving badly. I've signed Parents Codes of Ethics for rec soccer leagues and cringed when other parents berated the referees at basketball games. As a board member of the local summer swim league, I've spoken to--and had to make rulings on the behavior of--a number of wacko parents. One parent even adopted a cloak and dagger method, contacting me through an anonymous email site and adopting a pseudonym to tell me about a possible league rule violation--yes, she was involved because some new swimmer was displacing her daughter in the meet lineup.

It's easy to make fun of crazy sports parents, but at the same time, I, at least, can sympathize. There were times over the years when I was the parent in charge of our summer swim team that I did things that, in retrospect, I would have done differently if I had them to do over again. I may have lost perspective once or twice, and may have occasionally become a bit too ego-involved in my own kids' performances.

The thing is sports take lots and lots of parental time. Weekends are eaten up with matches or games or meets; week day mornings or evenings or both are busy with practices and constant carpooling. And different kids deal with competition differently--and so provoke a different emotional response from the parental unit.

And sometimes the parent is living or reliving their past sporting success--or failure--through their children.

But there are lots of good things about being a sports parents. I've made lots of friends and met a lot of great people, both parents and kids. Hopefully, everyone learns some good lessons about hard work, success and failure, and good sportsmanship.

And not to take sports too seriously.