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Friday, May 1, 2009

The Competitive Curse

Its been two weeks since I have climbed on my bike and it hasn't been fun. Its not for the want of cycling, or the need to control my ever expanding waistline, but a pesky injury that has the best of me. The "Hamstring" or to get really technical the bicep femoros. During the month of April I have had the pleasure of my twin brother visiting me, and ever since we were able to crawl everything was a competition. There were many:

  • First of all it was "Who could crawl to the piece of chocolate mum dropped on the floor the fastest.
  • Who could scream the loudest
  • Who could wear the most food on their face
  • Who could step on the most bugs
  • Who could eat the most bugs
  • Who could eat the most bugs without getting sick first
  • Who could get detention the most..............and the list goes on!
Then we got older and our priorities changed. The world of Girls and the world of Sports brought on a whole new dimension of competition, especially as we seemed to like the same girls and the same sports and our innocent competition evolved into a dimension of ruthless abandon.
The weekend before Philip left to go back to England we went to our company picnic and participated in a "Softball" match. Before I recall the match review, I do have to point out that after getting hit in the chest by a lovely, spirited, scintillating line drive there is nothing soft about the ball at all. I felt like I had been shot by a cannon. Phil & I were chosen as the two team captains as we were the only ones who had never played the game before. Phil was designated as his teams pitcher while I scurried out to the outfield to presumably be away from as much action as possible. (That to was a mistake)
When it was eventually my turn to bat I had to do the obligatory Babe Ruth "Called Shot"
gesture to my twin who in response threw the ball quite close to my left ear.
Eventually I managed a decent hit and after scampering to second tried my luck at stealing a base. (This was another mistake......and a further confirmation that the expression "Don't try this at home" should be taken seriously) As I slid into third base I felt the sickening sensation of the muscle tearing at the back of my leg and realised as I was called "OUT" that this competition dilemma with my brother had to end.......BUT WE DID WIN!!!!!!

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