Drew Versus the Bathtub Round 2: The Spouts Revenge

I have mentioned in teh past various incidents displaying somewhat less than a high level of home-repari competence...such as this hilarious story about being defeated by a bathtub drain.

This seems like a great time for a completely (seemingly) random diversion.

I have been quite a busy athlete this year. I have biked hundreds of miles. I have played numerous sets of tennis. I have played several hours of racquetball. I have lifted weights every other day since June with very few exceptions.

Furthermore, I have been a very...what is a word for "stupid" or "risk-taking"? Oh, I know...a stupid, risk-taking athelete.

I seldom warm up for weight-lifting, just start out with my strongest lift. I do not stretch after athletic endeavors. I do not always wait long enough between athletic events to allow my body proper rest. I do not wear a helmet while biking. The list goes on.

I have also been a very...what is a word meaning lucky? Oh, yes, unbelievably blessed athlete. No wrecks on the bike, no pulled muscles or injuries any more serious than a quick bout with tennis elbow which healed itself almost overnight.

Thus ends the digression.

This morning I went to the gym and did a power-lifting routing starting with the most difficult lift I have ever attempted (and powered through three full sets of even though i knew it was too much after the first rep in the first set). I also used two new machines, thus meaning I worked out longer than normal.

I wanted to stretch after the workout. The best science on the subject, contrary to popular belief, shows that athletes who stretch after strenuous activity have fewer injuries than those who stretch before...who, somewhat counter-intuitively, actually have MORE injuries than even those who do not stretch at all.

Not knowing proper stretch form, I wanted to stretch in private, not in the hustle and bustle of the main Globo-Gym (La Fitness reminds me a great deal of Globo Gym in the movie Dodgeball (2004)). So I stepped onto the basketball court for some private stretching.

Being the wise, intelligent, good-head-on-his-shoulders person I so clearly am, I instead picked up a ball and proceeded to do a cardio-busint shootaround that had the sweat dripping. I then left without doing the stretches.

I ate a healthy, nutritious power-breakfast of Cini-Minis and French Toast sticks from Burger King, washed down with the equally healthy Dr. Pepper, then went and played tennis for 2-1/2 hours.

I was feeling great, feeling energized. I went home to shower before heading out to St. Helens for the family Christmas.

I reached up to get the shaving cream. It started to fall.  I yanked my good foot out of the way of the falling can, terrified it would fall on my toes and break them. It then occurred to me that my left foot, the one with plantar fasciitis and near-constant tendon fatigue, was in mortal danger.

With lightning-like reflexes I jerked it out of the way. Unfortunately, the lightning whose reflexes I borrowed had fizzled. So it was not as quick as I might have liked.

Actually, it was too quick and I ended up ninja-kicking the tub spout. Unfortunately, kicking with the strength of a ninja but not the toughness can lead to issues...such as the 3" long, 1-1/2" wide gash I bashed open in the side of my foot.

It instantly swelled to about an inch out.

Want to see a picture?

Fair warning...it is disgusting. Turn away now if you have a weak stomach.








You have been warned.

All that red stuff is not supposed to be red. No clue what the white stuff is.


I still went to St. Helens. There I learned my sock had stuck to it, so it was even prettier.

Fortunately the swelling appears to have gone down, but the fact remains...after all the risks I take in athletic endeavors, I think it is pretty funny to cripple myself trying to shave and ninja-kicking the tub spout instead of doing it more reasonably...like when I actually deserve an injury...............................