Drunken Bowling
It happened on a Monday afternoon. We took a bus downtown for a team-building event. Where did we go? Not to the Franklin Institute, the place we went last year. This year we went bowling. Yes, bowling, at the fabulous Lucky Strike Lanes.
Now this isn’t your average bowling alley. High end martinis, art on display at the end of the lanes. Not your average bowling alley, indeed. This was my kind of bowling alley.
So at 2 in the afternoon, I enjoyed a Swanky Bubbles, or something like that. Hey, it was great. I was enjoying a martini in the middle of the afternoon on a workday. Sweet! The fact that I didn’t know how to bowl was something completely irrelevant. I’d figure it out.
We did a little warming up. First ball in the gutter. Next ball, a strike. Go figure. I didn’t care. I was feeling pretty good.
Then it happened. It was my turn to bowl. I hurled (does one hurl a bowling ball?) the ball stright down the lane. Yet my left foot kept sliding forward of its own accord. Stop, I told it, but it paid me no mind. I ended up looking something like a much less comfortable version of this picture: 
I shook it off and, of course, acted as if I meant to perform such a great feat. And hell, it was another strike.
That afternoon it hurt a little, but by the time I got off the bus when we returned to the office, I was limping. That evening at home was agony. I had pulled my hamstring! 
Good lord!
The next day when I told Luda about my injury, she tut-tutted and then said, “but we can still work your other muscles.” And work them she did. Sigh…
That weekend, before my Saturday training session, I decided to do some cardio on the treadmill. The leg was feeling a little better, so I began a walk/run drill. About the 3rd time that I ran for a minute at 6 MPH, something in the back of my left leg went “thunk.” Hmmm, that wasn’t a good feeling, I thought, as I rapidly pushed the button to slow me back down. I walked it off for a couple of minutes and then went back to 6 MPH. Thirty seconds in, something now went “pop” in the middle of my left rear thigh. I almost fell. Yeah, OK, I get it now. Get off the treadmill.
Luda came over just as I was able to walk again. Yeah, I still had to work out. “Let me know if something hurts your leg,” she instructed. Going up every other stair with weights 6 times did hurt, but I was too much the stoic to admit it.
After another week, the leg felt a lot better. I stayed off the treadmill and did step aerobics for my cardio instead. Luda also admonished me for eating too little. 
She told me to keep a food diary which I started at the cool site: Spark People. I even managed to get easily into my suede pants that almost bisected me the last time I put them on. Yay me!
On Thursday, I ventured once again onto the treadmill. The first 20 minutes were fine. I caught up with my People magazines while run/walking. Then it happened. Somewhere into my 6 MPH run, my hamstring went “thunk” again and I hobbled off the machine. I still managed to do my butt, arms and ab exercises, though despite the injury. Luda would be proud.
So, my friends, I share this tale with you so that you will appreciate the important lesson that I learned here:
Don’t bowl drunk. Your hamstrings will thank you.
Goodnight.
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I will keep that in mind!
Hope your hammys feel better soon.
I find there’s an optimum amount of liquor needed in my system to bowl my best. We were in a bowling league for a few years and did some rigourous research. Our findings were that a pitcher of margaritas (top shelf, rocks, salt) split before the team produced the best results. Martinis were too strong. Beer, too weak.
Hope your hamstrings get better.