Saturday, January 8, 2011

A well-stocked fly box, coupled with lunacy...

...sheer, unadulterated lunacy.  In retrospect, I'm not sure how it happened.

A couple of months ago, a really cool and persuasive lady asked me if I'd like to play on a co-ed soccer team.  Having grown up playing the game and turning into a pretty respectable player by the time I reached high school, I've toyed with the game on a love/hate basis throughout adulthood.  About six years ago, my career came to a screeching halt thanks to a torn achilles tendon.  I rehabbed the heck out of it, but never made it back to the pitch, short of casual playing with a bunch of 10 year-olds I coached last year.

First of all, since this is primarily a fly fishing blog, I thought I'd share a quick shot of my recent holiday tying experiment.  By the standards of most of my readers, the fly box probably looks a little rough.  I tried to make it neat and tidy like the boxes full of beautiful flies I see on other blogs.  It just doesn't look the same, which is OK by me, since putting it together was a labor of love.  Doc really appreciated it, and he should be more than sufficiently stocked for a spring/summer on the Poudre:

Which brings me to the lunacy.

As if trying to tie a box full of effective, or at least passable flies, isn't crazy enough, I couldn't keep my crazy, lunatic mouth shut.

The words came out of my mouth without any serious consideration, and with little opportunity to grab them back out of the comic-strip bubble that seemed to hang in the air above my head.  "Sure!  Sounds fun."

It starts tonight.  Instant panic attack.  Given that my primary exercise in the past year has been hiking in the hills and wading rivers, I'm far from "match fit."  I've been riding my bike a lot, trying to get my lungs back in some semblance of form, but I guarantee you that it hasn't been enough.  I held up OK - somewhat - doing some two on two with my nephew, sister, and brother in-law.  So, throwing sanity to the wind, I've loaded up my bag with an old, well-worn pair of turf shoes, Tiger Balm, Ace wraps, $4 shin guards, and a sense of optimism.  My plan is simply to survive, and then start running again; that, by the way, excites me very, very little.

See you in rehab!


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