![\"olympics](\"http:\/\/farm9.staticflickr.com\/8289\/7737121052_5b542f8355_m_d.jpg\" "\\"Olympics")
When I was in Middle School, Phys-Ed included some pretty intense gymnastics lessons. \u00a0I was good at the rings, parallel bars and pretty good on the pummel horse. \u00a0A bit skittish about the trampoline. But, after I got some basic moves down I was feeling better about it. Coach encouraged me to try something more advanced; a forward roll-twisty thing. OK, I was game, I was doing well so far.<\/p>\n
In a larger class like this the extra pupils are stationed around the trampoline to serve as spotters. Spotters being a human safety net so that if the tumbler strays too close to the edge, the spotters can shove them back. Normally it’s simply a time to hang on the edge and be bored as you wait your turn.<\/p>\n
I bounced up some height, initiated the forward roll, and added in the twisty thing… then BAM! The boom resounded throughout the gym. I remember seeing the guy climbing a rope be so startled he lost his grip and almost fell. “What happened, what was that sound?” thought I. Then I noticed, I was sitting on the floor. Some of the spotters were staring at me wide eyed, and my left leg was bent at the knee, off to the side at a completely unnatural angle. “Oh!” thought I, then promptly passed out.<\/p>\n
I learned later that I muffed the twisty-thing and traveled out over the edge of the trampoline. The spotters at that spot saw me coming down on top of them and promptly stepped aside to prevent potential injury to themselves.<\/p>\n
I awoke in the hospital with my left leg in a bulky brace and bandage contraption. The Doctor said I’d torn a ligament in the knee and stretched several others. It was his opinion that with rest and drugs, I would not need surgery, but I will have to be careful in the future.<\/p>\n
This was the first time I destroyed that knee. The second was playing football, the third was in wrestling. It took three shots before they finally did the surgery, and that ended my sports career.\u00a0 Not that I ever had aspirations of a career in sports, much less a shot at the Olympic Games: being able to say Olympic Games in my article is just a shameless way of gaining some search engine advantage.<\/p>\n
No, my interest in sports was purely recreational. I never was what you would consider a \u201cjock\u201d.\u00a0 In fact I stunk at most of the traditionally favorite sports.\u00a0 If it involved catching, hitting or throwing a ball (or ball-like object) I was terrible at it. But I could run like the wind and had a surprising amount of strength in my scrawny little frame.\u00a0 Coach called me \u201cwirey\u201d.<\/p>\n
In football it was discovered that if my teammates could put the ball into my hands and point out the direction I was to run, delivery of the ball to the goal line was almost always assured, as I weaved and dodged through the big bruisers trying to stop me at a speed that caught them off guard.\u00a0 You would think this would earn me some respect among my teammates, but since \u2013 if they neglected to identify which goal post was currently ours (it changed from time to time) – \u00a0I was just as likely to deliver the ball to the opposing teams goal for them, respect was given only grudgingly.\u00a0 Still, I tried, until a member of an opposing team decided to take my foot as a souvenir as I flashed by him: the knee popped, I went down and was out of things again for several months.<\/p>\n
Wrestling was never something I saw myself doing, but it was big in North Dakota, so while we were stationed there Coach convinced me to try out.\u00a0 In gym class and practice sessions he had me competing against boys two weight classes above my own to keep me from hurting them.\u00a0 He called me \u201cthe meanest man on the team\u201d.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t mean to hurt anyone, and felt badly when I did, I\u2019d just lose sight of my own strength during the heat of battle.\u00a0 A doctor would later label this trait \u201cBerserker Mode<\/a>\u201d caused by an over-abundance of adrenalin in my body, and a condition that once caused me to spend a night sitting in a jail cell.\u00a0 But that\u2019s a story for another time.<\/p>\n One evening I was in a competition, and doing well when my opponent took hold of my foot, put his shoulder to my knee and pulled, snapping the knee again.\u00a0 It was an illegal move and he forfeited the match, but it also sent me to the hospital with a mangled knee.<\/p>\n Back then Arthroscopy was unknown, to fix the problem the surgeon laid my knee open like a fileted fish, leaving scars that remain even today.\u00a0 Recovery was long and painful.\u00a0 When a limb is badly injured (or laid open with a scalpel) the brain turns the limb off so it won\u2019t be injured further.\u00a0 Getting the brain to turn it back on can be tricky.<\/p>\n The therapist tried the \u201cgentle approach\u201d first \u2013 \u201cgentle\u201d be a relative term: I labeled him the Marquis De Sade\u2019 for his therapeutic technique \u2013 but when that didn\u2019t work he took a more direct approach.\u00a0 He lifted my foot a couple of feet off the bare metal table I was laying on and said, \u201cI\u2019m going to count to three, then drop your leg.\u00a0 If you let it hit the table, it is going to hurt. A lot. \u00a0 One\u2026 Two\u2026 Three\u2026\u201d He let go of my foot and my brain decided to switch the circuit breakers back on.\u00a0 Preventing the uncontrolled drop probably hurt more than it would to just let it fall. I screamed as I lowered the leg to the table.\u00a0 He grinned maliciously at me, \u201cNOW, we can get going on some proper therapy.\u201d<\/p>\n It took what seemed like 6 years to get back on my feet, though it was probably more like 6 months.\u00a0 I had to learn to walk all over again.\u00a0 I spent a few weeks in a wheel chair between therapy sessions, then graduated to crutches and used them for a long time.\u00a0 Finally I was released for normal ambulation.<\/p>\n This much awaited day coincided with a school \u201cswim party\u201d, and I decided I would attend with some of my friends from the track team.\u00a0 The gym had a pool in the center, weights and gymnastics stuff around the edge and a running track on a balcony around the perimeter of the inside. My friends challenged me to a friendly race \u2013 just us \u2013 on the raised track.\u00a0 I felt fine and was curious to see if I could still run at all, so I accepted.<\/p>\n We pealed out of our street clothes, leaving just the swim trunks.\u00a0 I was wearing an assortment of jewelry and wanted to leave that with someone I trusted.\u00a0 Karen, a girl who hung out with the rest of us was there and happily accepted the roll of Guardian.<\/p>\n Kevin, Mike and I started off with an easy jog.\u00a0 It felt good to run again and I stepped it up a notch.\u00a0 Soon the three of us were flying around the track with me in second place.\u00a0 I was focusing on my running: foot placement, leg extension, powering through, breathing properly, I\u2019d shut out all else.\u00a0 Then voices intruded on my concentration, more like one voice, a crowd, chanting: \u201cGo Doug, go\u2026 go, Doug, go\u2026\u201d This warmed my heart and gave the energy to put in just\u00a0 a little more effort.\u00a0 I pulled up even with Mike, the chant grew louder, he gave me a hard, competitive look \u2013 he was not slacking \u2013 I reached inside and pulled just a bit harder, I drifted out front.\u00a0 Mike also reached, found a little, caught up, and stayed along side me for one long side of the track. But when we reached the corner he slowed up, admitting defeat.<\/p>\n The crowd went wild.\u00a0 I felt like an Olympian!<\/p>\n Afterward Mike and Kevin both said they were not slacking to make me look good, they put their best effort into it, and congratulated me, not so much for winning the heat, but for still being competitive \u2013 even though I would never return to competitive running: it was too dangerous.<\/p>\n We went down the stairs and located Karen to retrieve our stuff.\u00a0 After reassembling myself, I noticed a ring was missing and asked her about it.\u00a0 She held up a hand, my ring on her finger, \u201cI think I\u2019ll keep this one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCongratulations!\u201d\u00a0 grinned Mike, \u201cShe finally caught you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t know she was chasing me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou must be blind, man.\u201d<\/p>\n For the rest of the school year, Karen and I hung out together and it was a sweetly romantic time. My first girl friend.\u00a0 Then my family was reassigned and we moved on to our next location.<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t normally attend school functions, especially swim parties, But I sure was glad I went to that one.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" When I was in Middle School, Phys-Ed included some pretty intense gymnastics lessons. I was good at the rings, parallel bars and pretty good on the pummel horse. A bit skittish about the trampoline. But, after I got some basic moves down I was feeling better about it. Coach encouraged me to try something more … Continue reading “Wayback Whensday: Olympic Dreams”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[54],"class_list":["post-3751","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-life","tag-thats-life"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3751","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3751"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3751\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20843,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3751\/revisions\/20843"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3751"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3751"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3751"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}