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| This is me after surgery on my torn quadriceps muscle as a high school sophomore. Although you can't see it, I'm holding my trophy as "Hitter of the Year" for the varsity football team. No, that didn't mean I got in a lot of fights, It recognized the number of tackles I was involved in as a linebacker. |
I peaked physically at age 14. In the first six months of my 14th year were, far and away, the best six months of my athletic life.
I was in 8th grade—5’9” and 165 lbs. At the school track meet in late spring, I set two school records. In high-top, white Converse All-Star tennis shoes, I ran 100 yards in 11.1 seconds. That record still stands—mostly because they now run all events in meters. Wearing the same shoes, I participated in the shot put—2nd place—and ran the opening leg for my gym class period team in the 440-yard relay—also 2nd place. I also competed in the long jump.
At the time, the school record for the long jump was 16’7”. That’s a good distance for a 13-14-year old.
I jumped 17’3” on my first jump. On my second jump, I launched myself from behind the takeoff board to avoid crow-hopping—touching any part of either foot beyond the takeoff board. When I came down in the sand, I landed 18’1.75” from the front edge of the takeoff board. On my third jump, I mismeasured my distance from the takeoff board and had to launch from my left foot. That jump was 16’11”. All three of my jumps were beyond the existing school record.
My longest jump is still the school record—even when converted to meters.
When I retired from teaching, I had a party with friends and family. To my surprise, Ed Cherry, one of my Junior High PE coaches came. His comments focused on the long-jump record.
During the summer of 1964, I played Pony League Baseball. As a pitcher, I threw a no-hitter and a perfect game. As a batter, I hit .440 and with 5 home runs. Then I entered high school.
On Labor Day of 1964, just before football practice started my 9th-grade year, I cut my knee on a rock and needed stitches. During that football season, I had such bad blisters on my heels that my dad had to cut the leather out of the heel of the shoe so the blistered skin wouldn’t bleed. I broke my shoulder in the last game of the season.
As a sophomore football player, I tore one of the quadriceps muscles in my left leg. Tore really doesn’t adequately describe the damage. I ripped the muscle in half and had to have it surgically sewed back together.
In my Junior year, while pitching for the baseball team, I pulled part of my right groin muscle free of its attachment to my pelvis. In addition, a small artery was damaged. Blood from the artery pooled in my leg. Over the weeks that followed, my leg changed color from black and purple, to purple and green, to green and yellow, to yellow. I had to drink papaya juice to add enzymes to my system to speed the breakdown of the blood.
My senior year, while playing football, I damaged my back.
During my only college football season, I ruptured the disc between my 5th lumbar vertebrae and my sacrum. That required fusion. It also ended my football career, although I was dumb enough to try out for kicker at San Diego State the year after my back fusion.
During my only college football season, I ruptured the disc between my 5th lumbar vertebrae and my sacrum. That required fusion. It also ended my football career, although I was dumb enough to try out for kicker at San Diego State the year after my back fusion.
Coach Don Coryell kept me after the first team meeting.
“You’ve had back surgery.” More a statement than a question.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, unless you can kick the ball out of the stadium, you’re not going to make the team.”
I went to one practice, saw I was probably almost as good as the other kicker trying out, but also realized that I wasn’t better than he was. I turned in my gear.
As a college sophomore, because of NCAA regulations, I played on what was known as the Junior Varsity baseball team at SDSU. My junior year, I pitched some for the SDSU varsity. By then, the less than perfect pitching style—probably the result, at least in part, of my torn groin—had taken its toll.
It took me nearly ten minutes of swinging a weighted bat before I threw to keep minimize the pain when I pitched. The orthopedic surgeon who’d done my back fusion diagnosed my problem as a torn rotator cuff. I never had that fixed.
My right shoulder hurts often now that I'm nearly 70-years old. Washing my car or any repetitive motion brings on the ice pack and some pain medication.
As an adult, I broke my ankle:
- Stepping on the ball while laying softball.
- Stepping on loose asphalt while running with the Monte Vista soccer team.
The photos in the collage that follows are not from a hamstring pull. They're from a fall that whacked the inside of my knee. That happened nine months before writing this. The knee joint is still a little stiff.
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| Left side. The sidewalk my knee hit. Top right. You can see three or four lines where the knee hit the sidewalk edge. Lower right. Blood from my damaged knee pooling in my ankle about a week after the fall. |
I no longer jog, swing any piece of athletic equipment, or twist unnecessarily. I’m still able to walk my dog—20+ miles each week—and use an elliptical machine five times each week.
Muscle tissue is composed of units of increasing size and complexity. The basic unit is called a sarcomere. It is entirely protein. Sarcomeres contract when stimulated. Shortening the sarcomere causes the muscle to shorten. All skeletal muscles—those that move your body—work by shortening in length.
Thousands of sarcomeres form a muscle fibril. Fibrils combine to form a muscle fiber—an actual muscle cell. Fibers combine to form muscles.
Since we all have approximately the same number of muscles—around 650. It's possible that there is a slight variation between the sexes in number. However, there is no consensus on the exact number of muscles and any difference in the number of muscles between males/females.
I don’t know why mine seems to be so prone to damage…
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Wow, that's a lot of injuries! You certainly don't give up easily! :)
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