Almost two months to the day after injuring my thumb in a freak basketball incident, I am back on the Disabled List with an ankle injury. Not just any ol' sprained ankle I might add, but an (get ready to Google) "avulsion fracture' of the fibula. And so, after 32 years, my streak of not breaking a bone has come to an end. Now, it's technically just a chip - really can't even call it a fracture - but, it still counts as one in my book. Man, I feel so old and accident prone. It's sad and comical at the same time: I am the youngest guy out there by 10 or so years, so its not as though I've been playing out of my league as so many of the health professionals assumed while I was getting examined.
The swelling has yet to recede ten days after but at least I can walk on it - the affected area is a non-weight bearing bone. But walking is the extent to the activity prescribed - so I will be forgoing my running and of course, basketball playing for at least three more weeks - probably more. But, I can lift weights. Which brings me to the interaction I had this morning at the gym.
The small town of Dawson affords its inhabitants to know practically everyone by sight. In other words, we know a new face when we see one. Most of the time that new face has been yours truly - everywhere I'd go in town I was sure to turn a few heads and inevitably, be asked who I was. This is a good thing - it's nice to see that the friendliness the Midwest is often known for still exists, at least out in the country. So when I entered the gym this morning for a routine workout, you can imagine my surprise at seeing a new face - a young, African American man bench pressing 250 pounds. Dawson doesn't have too many young African American males bench pressing 250 pounds, so I asked him what his name was. "Matt." I introduced myself and told him that I was a Pastor at the church across the street. For those of you reading this that are not Pastors, please know that you are really missing out. I would say that when I introduce myself as a Pastor or seminarian, 95 percent of the time people feel the need to either confess something to me, or to tell me their life story. It really is quite fascinating. This fact alone is evidence enough that God has a sense of humor.
So, I braced myself for what Matt would inevitably share with the exercising Pastor in his midst. Sure enough, he first observes that I am NOT a Catholic priest, because I am married (noticing my ring). Then he asks me what my thoughts are regarding sex before marriage. I tell him my thoughts on the matter and he tells me his before casually dropping the following question on me (please, no one under 18 years old beyond this point.) "Would you call it rape if you had sex with someone who was asleep?" I just met the man - seriously people, if you aren't considering becoming a Pastor now, I don't know how else to convince you. So, after briefly pausing to collect my thoughts, I respond: "Yes, I think I'd consider that rape - non-consensual sex at the very least." Matt smiles and says, "Yeah, so that's what my girlfriend at the time did to me - I was passed out drunk - and she had sex with me. And two weeks later she told me she was pregnant. That was six years ago, and now I have a daughter. Do you want to see a picture?" Sure Matt, I'd love to.
By this time I have started to lift weights. I can feel him watching my every move. The next thing I know he's giving me tips and new ideas. Before you know it, we're work out buddies. He's walking me through some new lifting exercises and sharing all of his insight and knowledge. It's a little weird, but I am actually enjoying my little personal training session, I'm always looking for new exercises - and he certainly has credibility given his stature alone. The personal information continues to come out too, "When I was in high school, I got tired of being made fun of because I'm black - you can only walk away so many times before you need to start standing up for yourself - so I started lifting weights and knocking people out. I got into over 200 fights..." To which I reply, "Wow, sounds like you had a lot of anger, huh?" He proceeds to tell me how fighting was the only way. I realize how tough growing up African American in rural Minnesota must have been, but by the looks of this guy, I am suspicious that ANY kid, white or black, would ever intentionally ridicule him and get onto his bad side.
He mentions that he has been considering becoming a personal trainer. I encourage him to go for it. He explains that he doesn't read very well, but I still offer my encouragement to look into it. He seems to really enjoy working out and sharing how strong he is with me. "I used to lift 500 pounds - I can do this, I can do that - I'm chiseled and cut - on and on and on he goes, telling me how awesome he is. I just nod and smile and say, "so what do you use all that muscle for?" He pauses and doesn't respond at first. I clarify, "I mean, you are obviously a strong guy, God gave you lots of strength, you should do something with what you've got." To which he says, "Nah, it's for the ladies..." I scoff and tell him that he should do something more useful like be a fireman, etc. It just seems like a waste of time to go through all of that physical transformation for hooking up with women... but maybe that's just me.
Anyway, long story short - the man puts me through 90 minutes of arm, ab and back lifting exercises. Don't get me wrong, now that my ankle is injured and I can't run or do much cardio, I am appreciative of learning a few more weight lifting routines, but I am beginning to wonder if I made a mistake by being friendly this morning. I start to wonder how he'd do at personal training - in fact, he even asked me flat out to evaluate him. I do think he'd do pretty well, but I just don't know if I'm ready to sign on just yet. I guess we'll see how my body feels tomorrow.
