TODAY, TOMORROW & A PORTUGUESE GUY

What a beut out there. The last few days even, have been so nice as to make us believe that winter is over. I Believe. My new "Own the Patio" campaign is finally cashing in. That it is not officially not winter until March 21st (right?) and not unofficially until I officially stop wearing pants for the rest of the year (huh?) - unofficially, that is. Though today I did go for my first official bike ride of '010. The river-side area was adequately sprinkled with nice-weather goers, warm-sun seekers and those wanting desperately to get the heck outside: mostly walkers & groups, some bladers, a few bikers, Jesse from Who Shot Jr., two or more joggers, some picture-takers, winter-haters and work-out fakers, not to mention the elderly, the young, many immigrants and all in between. It was still a tad too windy going one way but pleasant nonetheless. The sun felt forever missed and I soaked it up, through my scalp, face neck and hands as I cruised through puddles as the snow melted and drained, hanging on as it does on the corner of lawns, under trees and piled along curbs. I got a free McDonnie's (McDonalds' version of Timmies?) coffee (great promotion, by the way), and sat across from the now also melting and closed for the season downtown, outdoor ice-rink. (which Katie & I frequented once this season) I got to looking and then thinking, sipping, then contemplating & comparing, drinking - then worrying. And sipping some more. With warm weather comes the end of cold weather. Soups for bbq's. Boots for sandals. Skates for shorts. Snow blowers for lawn mowers. Summer sports for winter sports. Hockey for...? What can I do in comparison to the intensity, fun and overall work-out I receive from my bi-weekly shinny games? At this moment of typing (though I could search on-line) I know only of one arena that stays open throughout the summer - And Mike said the Ice Park in the summer is even worse than the Ice Park in the Winter. And I believe him. Tennis is fun, sweaty and can be exciting (if the match-up is competitive, the court is free and the wind is low), but my feet hurt and I usually quit before I can get the full effect, cardio-wise. Squash is the same, but much more expensive and a little too 'upper class' for me (though I do enjoy the court side draughts) Bike riding is too leisurely (though time-filling and good for people watching and generating blog ideas) and walking too boring. Power Walking. Too odd looking. Softball is more about drinking beer and socializing, whereas hockey is more demanding - all about water bottles, ice time, staying alive and doing anything productive. The obvious alternative but impossible when thought about for many reasons most importantly being that I am thirty and not fifteen would be road and or floor hockey. Though hockey is all that and more to me, it is (in comparison to all work-outs except maybe any membership plan) an expensive exercise regiment - even at only twice a week (3-4 hours). I've spent at least fifteen dollars per week since November to play and have sharpened my skates (which I had to buy at the beginning of the season) three or four times at five bucks a pop. You do the math. I had to buy a forty dollar stick (because wooden ones are so passe - and when you use a composite you understand why)and another (thanks Dad) after that one broke. What I'm saying is that I spend most of my money on pick-up hockey games. One of the best things about my return to semi-competitive hockey is the different types of games/personalities/talent/old friends/and dressing rooms Mike, Jeff & I have walked into these past few months. Mike's fifty minute Sunday night game at South Windsor Arena was always fun, but subject to weird happenings, stupid people and complaints of not enough ice time, "Hatties!" and useless and chatty Lumberjacks - which is why I only went three or four times. The Ice-Park is the Ice-Park. Seven bucks for two hours of ice-time at twelve noon on a Friday in central Windsor is guaranteed to attract every puck yahoo this side of Lauzon - but it is hands-down the best bang for your buck. Tuesday night in Wheatley was good while it lasted. Very competitive and fast and fun (almost too much so for me), but it sort of stopped happening just prior to the organizer's trip to Mexico and is now turning into a memory. Friday afternoons and nights at H.J. Heinz arena in Leamington were good, until Dave Orshinsky halted the 12 o'clock, though we may still be able to hit the late-night Church league match-up (the one where we say a prayer at center ice beforehand) that is if it's still going on as well. The newest game we've found is via Kajiji at the WFCU's Windsor Star Arena. There is always two goalies, two benches full of fun-loving (some crazy) and loud Gino's, a few strays like us and as much after-game, dance-music accompanied ice-time as desired. I usually get off the ice when I can't stand up anymore and my back hurts too much from practicing one-timers (which I have yet to utilize in a real game) I love it when I determine when I get off the ice and not some fat guy on a zamboni turning off the lights. And of course, the two Winter Classic games at Lansbury Park on Ottawa street were a blast, but the out-door season ends even before the thaw begins. Yesterday to be exact. It was much fun again despite the seven foot strip of watery, melting ice up the entire sun-soaked north side. Jogging. Yes, jogging could be a legitimate alternative to hockey, as it is cheap, strenuous as hell, extremely effective but extremely not fun. (at least to me, and by the looks of most people's faces I see running - most people) I repeat. Not fun for most people. When I was a grade school kid I used to do cross-country, just because I did everything else so I figured, why not do this running thing, how hard could running around without stopping for a long time be? Freakin' hard, I answer myself now and then. Impossible to me unless you're born with everything vital to being a good runner, if you're missing one thing, you can't do it: extra large lung capacity, supreme leg strength, and animal like endurance, desire and breathing techniques. Too bad cross-country skiing doesn't involve throwing a baseball fairly hard, because then I'd be a pretty decent runner. This reminds me of one of my only St. Louis Crusader cross-country memories that doesn't involve pain, shortness of breath, more pain, sweat and pain. Though this one is also painful. Grade 7. 1991sh. Nearing the end of the grueling final meet, one which I expected nothing but hopefully just to finish, I found myself in a race to the finish line with a fellow Crusader - and neither of us wanted to lose to the other. Actually, I don't even know if he knew I was behind him, but I was, and I was gaining. Until poof! I was 'snatched up' meters from the finish line by a former Portuguese student coach who said something like "We can't mess up the numbers, you know, but great race. You tried really hard!" You can imagine my surprise. I was like (in my head because I was unable to breath let alone talk, plus I was being bear-hugged by a weirdo) "C'mon man, I was so close. Just let me finish! Nobody cares about the guy who comes in 158th! Goddamit." I didn't say that because I was attending a catholic school, but man was I pissed. Cross-country running has never been the same for me since. Just kidding, but I really do hate it.