Regular readers of this blog will know that Pain and Rum are two recurring themes.
I have always felt that Laser sailing and Pain and Rum go together like... well like fish and chips and mushy peas or.... trucks and beer and Jesus in country songs... or ... those three little dots in a row that are littered at random all over this post.
Brad Funk told me years ago that if it's not hurting you're not hiking hard enough. And I warped my sons' minds at an impressionable age by telling them that Laser sailing is mainly about pain. After a few hours of hard Laser sailing at a regatta or a clinic (like the one in Cabarete last week) I am usually aching in my back, my arms, my shoulders... well, pretty much all over.
If you happen to be sailing in the Caribbean then the best medication for Laser sailing pain is, of course... rum. The last time I was at a clinic and a regatta in Cabarete under the tutelage of Head Torture Master Rulo I was self-medicating with rum every evening.
But something changed. Last week there was no pain... and consequently no need for rum. (Although I do confess to consuming some of those girlie mixed rum drinks at the EZE Bar, purely to be sociable of course.)
What was different? Could it be that I am physically fitter than I used to be? I have been working out with weights a couple of days a week in my basement for the last few months. Trying to get some minimum level of muscle tone in my back, my arms, my shoulders... all those bits that usually hurt after Laser sailing. I have been steadily progressing to heavier and heavier weights but it hasn't been particularly intense... could it have actually worked?
12 comments:
I just don't know, Tillerman. You're plunging into unknown territory with this no-pain/rum-after-sailing-a-dinghy philosophy of yours.
Didn't Schopenhauer say that "life without pain has no meaning"???
And what of that other great mind: W. C. Fields, who always kept a small bottle on his person in case of snake bite but also made sure to always keep a small snake in the other coat pocket?
If Bill Fields were still with us I'm sure he'd step out of his dinghy and say "On the whole I'd rather be in Philadelphia (with a cheese steak in one hand and an intoxicating beverage in the other)."
As I read this post and think
with Dark and Stormy as my drink
how coincidental and a bit ironic
that it's not my standard gin and tonic
And yes, Tillerman, I remember that you do not care for gin.
George: If my Dad were still with us I'm sure he'd step out of his Penguin and say "who's got the Horlachers?"
If my Dad were still with us he would be saying, "Who are all these kids and why are they calling me Great Granddad?"
Baydog: My daughter would vote for a dark 'n stormy--her fav drink! If my old man was still alive he'd be looking for an Esslinger's or a Ballentine's--although he swore that after Falstaff took over P. Ballentine and Sons, they cheapened the brew.
I still have a Penguin I helped build back in '63. Dad called those boats "idiot scows" because unlike a Moth a Penguin would swamp if flipped thus ending your race. I liked 'em anyway. The Penguin truly is the little boat with the big boat feel, as designer Phil Rhodes was wont to say.
I sometimes thing of myself as the little boat sailor with big guy feelings.
Didn't W.C. Fields say that life without rum has no meaning?
George: My old man loved that skunky-ass Ballantines Ale in the green can. I'd rather have rhumb.
It seems to me that working out with weights in the basement is sort of like building a boat down there - you may never be able to get out.
But drown in a vat of rum? Death where is thy sting?
Tillerman, you have done it again with a great group of comments about the medication.. Not much about the disease, but so what.
Thanks.
Can't understand the title of the post. "No Bread This Afternoon"? What has bread got to do with it?
Is that wheat it means? I thought it meant, "Pass the pork pies please."
Pain and Rum...sounds like the name of an album. My next album, perhaps. Also the title track. Or it could be the subtitle of your book (when you publish The Tillerman Chronicles:
The Tillerman Chronicles
(tales of pain and rum).
You should have a pain and rum song contest. Hell, most words rhyme with rum (the good words, anyway).
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