"No excuses that I know." --Alice in Chains, "No Excuses"
"No excuses that I know (yet)." --Jaime Flaco
So, as a three-week vacation from teaching spreads out wide open in front of me, the only question is what excuse will I now invent?
Though it is true that there is some work to be done (countless essays on the Industrial Revolution and imperialism in Africa beckon to me, as well as many hours of second semester planning for my world history class), I am kidding myself if I say that I will busy for all of these three weeks.
It is ironic that the suffocating schedule that I have undertaken this year--history department chairperson, full-time teacher, basketball coach, classes at the university to get my teaching credential, being moderator of two student clubs--is a perceived deterrent to my dunking program in the same way as is my wide-open schedule for these next three weeks.
There is something about an uninhibited schedule that allows me to waste an exorbitant amount of time. Perhaps this is a harbinger of literary fame, as we all know that all the great and tortured writers (redundant?) do more non-writing than writing, hate their writing when it does ooze through their fingers, and always have very low self-esteem.
So, as today wore on, I watched Kobe put on another clinic, watched my 49ers crumble down the stretch against Philly, and started and dang near finished a thoroughly enthralling book on the Mexican Mafia. All throughout the day, the specter of my workout lay on the projection screen of my mental movie theater.
At 11am, I vowed to do my workout at 1pm (cuz, you know, I have to let my big meal properly digest).
At 1pm, I vowed to do my workout at 4:15 (cuz, you know true fans watch the whole 60 minute NFL game).
At 4:15, I vowed to do my workout at 6:15 (cuz, you know, I have to let my big meal properly digest).
At 6:15, dang, I did my workout. Despite incredulous looks from the two middle-aged women doing aerobics, I did the whole of my jumping regimen in a barely-lit back exercise room at the 24 Hour Fitness.
"No one raindrop thinks that it started the flood."--Anonymous
As a true Cali boy, I hate rain, but I love raindrops.