Rope

Fucked up my knee again. Google and I have narrowed it down to a lateral collateral ligament strain. Not sure if I did it shovelling the driveway, jumping rope or a combination of the two, as it occurs to me now that I shovelled the drive right before doing my workout.

Jumping rope is one of the best cardio exercises you can do. Fifteen minutes is equivalent to running an eight minute mile which (if you’re into calorie burning) burns about 800 calories. That’s like taking a blowtorch to your fat deposits. And all you need is a rope and a piece of floor! No fancy contraptions that put you on the hook for fifteen equal payments of $59.99. It’s also a low-impact, full-body activity. Not to mention its historical proclivity amongst boxers. I mean, if boxers swear by the rope, then you know it’s effective.

I feel great when I finish my rope-jumping workouts; all soaked in sweat and euphoric from the rush of endorphins yet whenever I look at my rope I can’t help thinking about what else it could be used for if, say, I decided to give up the proverbial fight.

I’m getting old. If it’s not one of my dumb elbows or wrists, then it’s one of my dumb knees. Never used to have these strains and sprains: tennis elbow; runner’s knee; golfer’s wrist. Not that I’ve ever been a runner. Nor have I ever seriously played tennis or golf. But I did train as a boxer when I was in my teens. I had one fight and lost by unanimous decision to a brawler. The kid I fought had no finesse and no mercy. He was out to knock my head clean off my shoulders. I quit after that fight.

I can’t see myself ever quitting the ‘big’ fight. If I do, though, then my rope would surely serve me well. Studies suggest that you lose consciousness within 5 to 10 seconds. Chris Cornell used his exercise band in the bathroom of his room at the Fox Theatre, Detroit. Using something that prolongs your life by improving your health, to end your life, is awfully ironic…perhaps even awfully poetic.

RIP Chris.

8 thoughts on “Rope

    1. Warden: You must choose between electricity, injection, or drinking two bottles of scotch and sleeping it off in the snow bank out back.
      Convict: Which option is least costly to the tax payer?
      Warden: It’s decent scotch and it’s still the cheapest option.
      Convict: Can I ask for a cigar as well?
      Warden: I don’t see why not…it will still be cheaper.
      Convict: Thank you, sir. Any chance of…
      Warden: Yes, I’ll have a prostitute sent to you…and it will still be–
      Convict: Cheaper, yes, I know, sir, and thank you again, sir.
      Warden: Male or female?
      Convict: Well, sir, I was ‘gay for the stay’ as they say, so perhaps a transvestite?
      Warden: Excellent choice. Have a great night. I’ll see you around 2 a.m.
      Convict : Um, okay, sir.

      Liked by 2 people

  1. Hi A.,

    Fucked up my knee again. More poignant words could not be written. It is not so much the body part as the realization. That quavering sound as we speak of yet another defeat and they come like tiny Corteses, coming, coming, unstoppable at night. Yes, our bodies are nothing more than Aztec Empires and there is nothing to be done. Thanks for the reminder. Best. Duke

    Liked by 1 person

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