the joy of pain

This post comes out of a place of guilt.

There are only two things in Beijing that I do - besides work.

One is I usually go out to Bar Blu for quiz night. They have a three hour quiz night every Wednesday for teams and the place packs out with ex pats with nothing but time on their hands who want to get out and have an excuse to drink.

Heck - the prize is a big bottle of booze...

I am on a team with my co-worker Jade and her sister and a bunch of other revolving friends. We tied for first twice - and lost the tie breaker both times. Till last month - when we finally won - by four whole points!

I always leave before the bottle comes.

The other thing I love to do is go out with my Chinese counterpart Director Hu and play basketball on Friday nights.

Let me take a step back.

I was always the shortest kid in my class. And the youngest. I was even shorter than all the girls. The only thing I could do in sports was run. Not faster than people. Just longer. So while everyone was getting into all the different sports - I couldn't do much.

Then I discovered soccer. And I could kick with my left foot - so I was considered pretty good. All through elementary - I did OK and had something to hang my hat on - even if it was a very tiny hat to match my very tiny head.

Then we moved to Taiwan. Where everyone is good at soccer. And half my school was from Europe. And I sucked.

But a funny thing happened between my freshman and sophmore year.

I grew 8 inches.

So I took up basketball.

And I still sucked.

But I loved the game.

I was good enough to make the team my last three years of high school. But I really only got to play if we were really ahead in the last two minutes - or really behind in the last two minutes.

But I still loved the game.

In college I played intermurals. I got knocked around a lot and ended up getting both legs in a cast - at different times.

I've turned my knee.
Twisted my ankle.
Ripped my hamstring.
Taken a knee to the head resulting in 21 stitches above my eye.
Bitten through my tongue.

And in one glorious moment of playing on the pick up courts in grad school - I took a ball on the end of the thumb going for a steal. And my thumb was completely shoved inside my hand.

It was incredibly disturbing.

A couple thousand dollars and 15 stitches later - I'm almost as good as new.

In the last couple years I've slowed down a bit from playing 3 times a week. Mostly because I hurt too much the next day. But I still love the game.

Sad thing is - all the game has really given me back is injuries.

And I really am no better than when I started. Only now I'm getting worse.

But when the opportunity to play here in China presented itself - I jumped back in with both feet.

And they play crazy. Three thirty minute periods - regulation full court - no resting.

So last Friday - when I returned way too late from editing - with only minutes to go before I had to leave for basketball - I was panicing.

Somehow - I forgot to pack shorts.

It is rush hour here and to even go a mile - will take 15 minutes. There are no stores close by.

So I did the ugly American thing and went down to the hotel workout room and had to buy a pair of their crazy ugly shorts.

For $45.

I don't think I own anything past a pair of shoes for $45 - let alone a cheap ass pair of shorts.

But I love the game. And I bought the shorts.

Too bad the game just doesn't love me back...