Report card time

Well, I’m approaching 60 days into this thing and I think it’s time to step back and assess how it’s going. For starters, let’s have a look at the rules I laid out in my second blog post and assign some grades.

Beer league training shall:

1) Cost no money

I haven’t spent one dime on this new hobby, although this may have to change soon as my running shoes are on the verge of falling apart. Also, I think a powder blue track suit would be just the thing to take this to the next level, fashion-wise.

Grade: A

2) Be a one-man show

Apart from a couple lapses during which I used my kids as barbells, I’ve avoided dragging anyone into this personal journey of mine. There have been some secondary repercussions due to the time I now spend time outside most evenings rather than inside with my betrothed discussing politics or viewing the latest television serial.

Grade: A-

3) Fit into my current lifestyle

As I’d planned, I’ve cut out my nightly Xbox habit and have slipped in hockey training. In that sense, it’s been a seamless transition. However, there’s more to it than that. My video game time used to come at the end of my evening, as my reward for having done my various duties. With the new routine I’ve established, my hockey training is the first thing I do when my personal evening time kicks in, since it requires energy and is mainly done outside – I don’t want to leave it too late. This shift in timing has, in effect, elevated my new hobby to top priority status whereas other tasks like doing the dishes or organizing the garage should maybe be in that spot. 

And yes, my training has become somewhat of an obsession and it’s a challenge keeping it to 30 minutes a day. The workouts leave me feeling tired – a deep, radiating fatigue that causes snores to emanate from the very core of my bones – which means I don’t always accomplish anything concrete afterward. Call this a work in progress.

Grade: B-

4) Not include guilt

There have been a few times when I’ve missed a workout and have felt pangs of disappointment that were trending toward guilt, but I’ve kept those feelings in check. Now that I’m working out regularly, I feel like I’m entitled to my other indulgences, such as eating too much munchies and consuming too much soda, so I’m feeling less guilty about those things than I did before. Aha, there are side benefits to getting in shape!

Grade: A

Averaged out, when assessed based on these rules, the success of my hockey training endeavour comes in at about an A-. That ain’t not bad, to borrow a line from Bart Simpson.

However, as we’ll see in my next blog, there are other criteria that call into question the long-term viability of this whole scheme.

The rise of the 150-pound stallion

An ice pack becomes my bosom buddy for the next couple of days. I clutch it to the back of my leg at every opportunity: in the car, at my desk at work, at the kitchen table, on the couch.

The first day after the injury I’m very sore and limpy so I take a break from all forms of training. On the second day the leg feels well enough for some footwork drills but is too sore for any sprinting.

The third night is a game night. My leg doesn’t hamper my performance but I feel a bit like my old self: sluggish and slow. Oh well, it’s only beer league.

The next day my leg still feels fine so, come evening, I’m ready to try an all-out sprint session. After my warmup, I let ‘er rip and my leg holds up fine. I complete a full complement of sprint intervals and all my limbs remain intact. Yes! I declare the injury overcome. This brings great relief as I’d initially worried that the injury was much more serious.

I then repair to the garage for some squat exercises with a barbell across my shoulders. I do 10 reps with 110 pounds on the bar then venture up to 120 pounds for four more reps.

These squat exercises I view as my main tool for addressing one of my greatest conditioning shortcomings: poor leg strength, which translates to poor speed on the ice.

A couple days after declaring my injury cured I try squatting 140 pounds, which is just 10 pounds shy of my body weight. This is heavy work for me but I handle four reps without incident. Based on previous conversations with hockey conditioning experts, my plan with these squats is to focus on big weight and few reps, probably every second day or so, to allow the muscles to rebuild in between. This is what sprinters do and I’m essentially a sprinter in training, given that a hockey shift is basically a series of quick, powerful, explosive movements.

As I progress in my development of a sprinter’s body, I’ve noticed that I’m also starting to develop a sprinter’s attitude. During the rest periods between wind sprints I’m starting to chuff and strut like a high-strung stallion, my rump stuck out haughtily to the rear and my chest puffed out to the front. As I move, my arms and legs bow out wide, away from my body, as if to accommodate some massive bulk. The natural progression of this machismo-laden peacockery is that my great chest gets repeatedly thumped and my arms find reason to repeatedly point this way and that, as if I’m hailing supporters in the crowd.

This is all imagined, of course. My blown-up bravado is visible only to shadowy thickets of trees. But that doesn’t matter. When you’re a strutting stallion, it’s not about the crowd, it’s about the proud.