Sometimes the dream is sooo much better than the reality

So today, after about a half hour of cardio, I dropped down and did fireplugs* again for the first time in ages. Why? Because I dreamed about doing them, and in the dream I was very satisfied by this adventure in physical exertion.

It felt better in my dream. I have a ways to go before my flesh-and-blood body catches up to my sleepy-time ideal.

   

*You know -- you're down on all fours. Keeping your right knee bent, you lift it a little off the floor and then lift it to the right without straightening it or changing the level of your hips. Then bring it down slooooowly.

Trifecta

This is a writing meme! I love the idea of getting a writing assignment that doesn't involve selling shit (which, as a copywriter, is my day job).

Here are the rules, and they are ruled by 3's. I am given one word but must use its third definition. I must use more than 33 words but less than 333. And I am required to construct more than three sentences.

deep adj \ˈdēp\

1  a : extending far downward
    b (1): extending well inward from an outer surface
       (2): not located superficially within the body

2: having a specified extension in an implied direction usually downward or backward

3:  difficult to penetrate or comprehend : recondite

And in response, here is my essay ...

In Praise of Baseball

To the casual observer, our national pasttime is really pretty simple. Gentle and lighthearted. Associated with peanuts and Cracker Jack, sunshine and good times.

Yet the more closely you follow major league baseball, the more you see that it's really nine innings of drama -- sometimes more because there's no such thing as a tie -- played out more than 160 times a season, sometimes more, if your team gets into the play-offs. There's the power struggle between pitcher and catcher. The face-off between pitcher and batter. The race to the bag between the base runner and the infielder. The tricks the sun and the shadows play on the outfielder. Observe more closely and it's no languid summer entertainment. Baseball is as fraught with danger and suspense as the best Hitchcock movie.

And the history! I am a Cub fan because my parents and both sets of grandparents were Cub fans. I no longer worship in the same church they did, but I religiously pay my respects to that enduring tabernacle of baseball, Wrigley Field. I am thrilled it was I who took my young nephew to his first game. From the stands I pointed out the pennants that represent the retired jerseys of Cub greats. It was by showing him #23 Ryne Sandberg that I brought his great-grandmother to life, explaining how she was loyal to the Cubs and loved her Ryno beyond all. It made him happy to think of how proud his great-grandparents would be to know he was following in their Cub fan footsteps.

Soon it starts again. In just 11 days, the Cubs' pitchers and catchers report for spring training and an exciting new chapter begins. My heart is racing, my hopes are high. For baseball -- like ice cream and some of the best people I know -- is more enduring, engaging and deep than it appears at first glance and I cannot wait to immerse myself in the 2012 season.