I was up about 5 hours later. Today was the first day of Pittsburgh Ultimate Summer League, and my team has two two-hour games each Saturday for the summer, 10am and 12pm.
We had 7 men show up, where there need to be 5 on the field at all times, so, umm, I got a lot of playing time. I feel faster and stronger and in better condition than I was at the start of last year. I remember that by the middle of Fall League, playing the whole game was something I was capable of -- sometimes followed by most of a second one. But certainly not at the begining of the year.
So after playing most of 4 hours of Ultimate, apparently that wasn't enough. I was exhausted -- I no longer cover the slowest people on the field, and I made some significant plays. I even played in the cup for a couple of points, for the Ultimate speakers among my readership. I was tired, and hungry, having consumed all of a banana and a Clif Bar in the previous 12 hours. But I allowed myself to "float" onto another team. I guess I didn't really think about the implications that the only reason they are allowed to pick up other men is that they are drastically short.
So I played another 4 hours of Ultimate, again with very few breaks. And again against a couple of fast teams. And I played ok. About the end of the third game the blisters started. By halftime of the fourth, the muscles had gone from cranky to unresponsive. I was probably a danger to myself driving home.
So I got home and took Corvis straight to the park. And I post this entry. Because I know the next steps work like this: I am going to take off my stinky wet clothing, take a nice hot shower, and go to "read a book in bed". I am not sure what time I will be waking up. I am not looking forward to morning, because I already feel like a truck ran me over. And that, after popping plenty of Vitamin I on the drive back.
What amazes me, actually, is that the feelings are already lifting. I am in better shape that I gave myself credit for. Woo.