Two days ago, after spending the majority of the past four weeks in bed and subsequently not doing any type of exercise whatsoever, I was feeling better so I decided to run up the six flights of stairs that lead to my house and that I had run countless number of times in the past. Once upstairs, it took me 10 minutes of pathetic wheezing and gasping to get my breath back. I thought I was going to die. I am sooo out of shape. Last night, I went to my first volleyball practice in a month.

Jan was sweet. On my way out the door she said, “If you feel like it’s too much, just stop.” I whole-heartedly agreed and was on my way. I must have forgotten those pearls of wisdom somewhere between the wind sprints and the defensive blocking drills because that should have been the perfect place for me to “just stop”. But I didn’t. I stupidly pushed on, trying to show both myself and my coach that I was still capable of competing at the same level that I had achieved after our first two months of solid training. In all fairness, when the coach called for three sets of 60 sit ups, I only did one set; but I think most of the other guys didn’t do many more than that either.

All and all, it was a good practice. When we stopped running and diving and started actually playing volleyball, I played quite well. I even heard one of the guys on the team taunt another guy by saying, “Hey, if Josh can hit the ball that hard and he has bird-flu, what’s wrong with you?” It was a proud moment.

Then I woke up this morning, tried to stand up, and almost collapsed to the ground when my legs buckled beneath me. My legs, stomach and ass were rendered useless and in pain and it only got worse as the day went on. I just passed the infamous 24-Hour Point so it should be all downhill from here. It doesn’t get any worse than the 24-Hour Point. Thank goodness we don’t have a match this weekend. I have five days to recuperate before Tuesday’s practice. I should be back in shape in no time! Back in shape or dead.