A Thing Or Two About Muscles

I date a personal trainer, so I know a lot about muscles. Or, I know that she knows a lot about muscles and that's satisfying enough for me. But I do know a thing or two. I know, for instance, that it's a sign of a really great workout if muscles you never knew you had are sore.

Most of the thing or two I know I picked up during my four years of college soccer. After experiencing four pre-season camps where all we did was eat and run (sometimes with a ball, sometimes without), four fall seasons worth of competition and four off-seasons worth of preparing for competition, I thought I knew all I needed to know. Although I couldn't tell you where my muscles connect to my bones and ligaments and tendons and whatever else they connect to, I sure could tell you where and when they hurt. I thought I had discovered all my mysterious muscles.

I was wrong.

Take, for instance, the "vacuum-cleaner-carrying" muscles. These are obscure, so don't feel bad if you haven't found them yet. For those of you with enough sense to never carry your vacuum cleaner further than one room to another, you'll probably never hurt in these sneaky arm spots. But, in the process of moving from one apartment to the other, I had no choice but to carry our vacuum cleaner down the street. Three long city blocks. Doesn't sound far, I know. Until you're holding a vacuum cleaner out in front of you.

Here's another one: the "I'm-hoisting-a-way-too-heavy-suitcase-with-my-right-hip" muscle. This one, I think, is actually just the skin atop my bone, and it's very tender and slightly bluish now.

Finally, my favorite from yesterday, the "holy-sh*t-an-ambulance-is-coming-and-I-don't-have-control-of-my-wheelie-bags" muscles. Head down, I was descending the hill with only one more block to go. Just as I was about to coast into the intersection I became cognizant of the sirens approaching from my right.

"Watch out, watch out, watch out!" a woman I had nearly run over en route to the sidewalk ramp yelled. In case I hadn't heard the sirens. Plainly I had. I just needed a few extra steps to stop. And I did. In the street, yes, but only barely, protected by a parked car. A muscle near my forearms screamed.

Lest you feel too sorry for me, let me give a little context. Tiffany and I do have a car, and will, in fact, be using it to move some of our bigger things. But we both need to be present to move things with the car, as double-parking in front of the new place will require at least a sporadic look-out for meter-maids. Tiffany was in all-day classes yesterday and today learning about--you guessed it--muscles. So I'm doing my best to move as much as I can on my own, two suitcases and a backpack full at a time. It's tedious, yes. It's conspicuous, certainly.

But damn. What a workout.