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Sawing out the soreness

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POSTED November 3, 2010 1:23 a.m.
I had breakfast with my external abdominal obliques Saturday. I had no choice.

They pouted defiantly as I tried to twist them loose while making oatmeal and coffee to start the weekend. The culprit was not a work out, but sport specific movements. I bowled a 165 against two of my fellow English teachers Friday after meetings, then hit 45 minutes worth of medium spicy fastballs in the batting cage. It wasn’t quite as cool as the napkin Haiku contests we have at coffee shops, but close.

Back to Saturday’s breakfast.

My obliques and I couldn’t decide the last time we had taken batting practice, but still, that was no excuse for being sore the next day. I mean, was it really worse than hacking golf balls into the ocean after not playing for months?

Or chopping 30 rounds of wet hemlock after a morning of fly-casting? What, was I getting old? No way.

John Gierach says age is half biology, half attitude. So I refused to let my side work me into an excuse relating to age.

I hear from friends these moments will come more frequently. I tell them no, because it’s not the same type of moment. It’s merely a matter of stretching before exercise.

Perhaps incited by the soreness that came from something as simple as swinging a bowling ball and later a bat, I decided the manly thing to do was use power tools and build stuff. It was a nice coincidence since the fuel fund for fishing was on fumes.

I decided to build a fly-tying corner desk so when the road-trip season ends, I can replenish my fly-box and save back some money for the salmon assault next spring and summer.

As is the case with most of my projects, I applied my two construction standards. The first being that since I live alone, the quality has only to pass my own inspection, and as long as my place doesn’t look like a collection of middle school shop projects, I am fine with it.

If I tried to find furniture that would make me appear dignified or interesting, I’d probably be looking forever, or if I did find it, it would probably cut too much in to my fishing fund.

I have previously built a poplar fishing rod holder with unmeasured jig saw cuts and threw it up on the wall above the wood chest with eye-balled dowel joint placements where I store sleeping bags, blankets and my tent.

Both look fine, from a distance, are functional and cost me less than $60 combined.

The second building standard has to do with materials. Since I am lacking sophisticated saws and tools that make projects precise, it is a good thing I am the only set of eyes because most of my projects have unique features such as an extra screw hole or two, no stain or even sit a little out of square. Most of these are obvious if you know where to look.

So the corner desk is a sturdy triangle of two-by-fours with a plexi-glass top, encasing a section of fishing chart Dad used when we went ocean fishing back home. It’s a nice reminder, though does distract me when I am trying to spin peacock herl around the lead body of a prince nymph.

It fits pretty nicely in the corner and doesn’t even wobble.

By the time I covered the top in organized piles of thread, chenille, hackle feathers, hooks, bead heads and sipped the last cup of coffee from my Norwegian ‘Uff Da’ mug, I wasn’t sore anymore.

Proof that not only am I not getting old (or at least have a good attitude) but that the best way to recover from physical or mental fatigue is to keep going.

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