As I finally sit down at 11:00, feeling every single day of my 49+ years, I am struck by a genius thought that has come too late. Like baseball, gardening is a sport. It's a game we play with nature, spring through fall. There is winter - the off season - and then we begin with spring training. Well, baseball does anyway.
Oh sure, we sometimes do a spring training of a sort, by starting seeds inside, caring for our house plants, and going to garden shows. It's our way of gearing up for the active growing season in our gardens.
But what about the muscles? WHAT ABOUT THE MUSCLES?!? Yes, they're screaming at me right now. They are in the midst of a full body revolt against what I did to them these past four days. I tried to pace myself, I really did, but you know how the saying goes - "Make hay while the sun shines." And boy, did we.
We cultivated, we planted, we moved things, we weeded, we trimmed dead foliage, we watered, we hauled flagstone ... you get the picture. And we were not properly conditioned for all this physical work. What were we thinking? Baseball players wouldn't dream of going out on the field on opening day without weeks of spring training. They know it would likely result in a pulled muscle or two, and we should know better than to go all out after a winter of living like slugs, without getting ourselves in better shape.
So I know better and you know better, and maybe you DID better than I did. But I hate, hate, hate exercise and now I'm paying the price. I don't know why I hate exercise so much, when I love nothing better than to be outside crawling around on my knees, digging in the dirt, and exerting myself with much more effort than a simple 30-minute Pilates would take. But the fact is, every spring I do it the same way and every spring I get the same result: Overly sore muscles while dragging my tired butt up the stairs to bed each night.
I sleep really well though.
*Photo from www.ultimatebaseballgm.com