Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Body and Soul
I first smoked marijuana before there were 100 synonyms to describe it. And I did it for the first time of not many times at twilight in a carport after lifting weights. There was a cinder track across the grass from my friend’s house and I had planned to push the 60 second barrier for 440 yards, not bad for 220 pound muscled lineman with no body fat.
I liked fitness, loved the feeling of waking up in the morning and having my muscles ache so badly I could hardly sit up. I grooved off the spontaneous leg cramp and my thighs were solid, like planks of lumber. A smart mind and solid body is what I was into before that was cool and before every non athletic poser in the world went to the gym for a workout.
I knew marijuana was not dangerous and also that it was not all my goofy friends made it out to be and it didn’t scare me. There were other hallucinogenic drugs like LSD which I perceived as “temporary insanity” drugs that would send you on a trip without a return map to get home. I saw friends laugh and cry at the same time exhibiting two conflicting emotions and my instincts said “stay away” or you may miss the punch line for the rest of your life.
So I took a few hits off a corn cob pipe, no big deal, but I had a goal to accomplish of breaking 60 seconds, so I jogged over to the track. You can tell real athletes because they always pull up their white socks before taking on a challenge. This is before Gatorade and stupid ass water bottles, before “athletes” missed their mouths on purpose while drinking water. We drank from rubber hoses before nozzles were invented. You want a nozzle, I got your nozzle!
I looked down and I was complete, no segmentation, no underdeveloped muscle groups, just a ripped German boy who could endure pain and play off lactic acid buildup.
I was off and the only sound was my pre Nike feet slapping the stones of the track. It was dark and I felt so fast and was immersed in my own fitness, caught up in the speed and magic of my body. And then I saw it, what was it doing there. I had to incorporate it into my awareness and soon it dominated my thoughts.
The big red seven shining above the 7-11 as I looked up and off to the right. It was the most majestic image I had ever seen. It was visionary like Fatima, it was a god goof , a big red seven glowing in the sky riding high above all the labor and toil of the human race. I thought it was the most profound and hilarious thing I had ever seen.
I crashed to the track and couldn’t stop laughing. My cooled out friends came over and at first gave that stupid ass laugh that pot heads summon when they think a friend has converted to their lifestyle but then they became annoyed and said, ”It ain’t that funny, now knock it off and let’s go to the diner and get some food.
I learned that the world is plenty funny, serious, sad and scary without the enhancement drugs provide. I learned for me the advantage was in reality. I’d rather break 60 seconds in the 400 meters at 60 years old than win the Power Ball. Neither is likely to happen. I have no problem dealing with that. Pass the pipe! I’m kidding!
freddogg
I liked fitness, loved the feeling of waking up in the morning and having my muscles ache so badly I could hardly sit up. I grooved off the spontaneous leg cramp and my thighs were solid, like planks of lumber. A smart mind and solid body is what I was into before that was cool and before every non athletic poser in the world went to the gym for a workout.
I knew marijuana was not dangerous and also that it was not all my goofy friends made it out to be and it didn’t scare me. There were other hallucinogenic drugs like LSD which I perceived as “temporary insanity” drugs that would send you on a trip without a return map to get home. I saw friends laugh and cry at the same time exhibiting two conflicting emotions and my instincts said “stay away” or you may miss the punch line for the rest of your life.
So I took a few hits off a corn cob pipe, no big deal, but I had a goal to accomplish of breaking 60 seconds, so I jogged over to the track. You can tell real athletes because they always pull up their white socks before taking on a challenge. This is before Gatorade and stupid ass water bottles, before “athletes” missed their mouths on purpose while drinking water. We drank from rubber hoses before nozzles were invented. You want a nozzle, I got your nozzle!
I looked down and I was complete, no segmentation, no underdeveloped muscle groups, just a ripped German boy who could endure pain and play off lactic acid buildup.
I was off and the only sound was my pre Nike feet slapping the stones of the track. It was dark and I felt so fast and was immersed in my own fitness, caught up in the speed and magic of my body. And then I saw it, what was it doing there. I had to incorporate it into my awareness and soon it dominated my thoughts.
The big red seven shining above the 7-11 as I looked up and off to the right. It was the most majestic image I had ever seen. It was visionary like Fatima, it was a god goof , a big red seven glowing in the sky riding high above all the labor and toil of the human race. I thought it was the most profound and hilarious thing I had ever seen.
I crashed to the track and couldn’t stop laughing. My cooled out friends came over and at first gave that stupid ass laugh that pot heads summon when they think a friend has converted to their lifestyle but then they became annoyed and said, ”It ain’t that funny, now knock it off and let’s go to the diner and get some food.
I learned that the world is plenty funny, serious, sad and scary without the enhancement drugs provide. I learned for me the advantage was in reality. I’d rather break 60 seconds in the 400 meters at 60 years old than win the Power Ball. Neither is likely to happen. I have no problem dealing with that. Pass the pipe! I’m kidding!
freddogg
