First Official Water Polo Game in Ten Years...

On the evening of September 25 (two and a half weeks ago), I decided to check out a local water polo club and see if I still had what it takes to swim a little bit and throw a ball around. During a few emails with the coach of the club he mentioned that maybe I should spend some time getting back into shape, as it has been roughly ten years since I was consistently in the water swimming, let alone playing water polo. After a little bit of explaining that water polo was my preferred form of getting into shape, he agreed to let me come out to a practice and see how it went. That night, for over two hours, I played water polo for the first time in a long time (meaning, I can't remember the last time I played water polo exactly). It was so much fun, and also really painful (mostly for my pride).

The next day I was a little stiff, but decided that I can manage to drag myself closely behind some of the other players in the club, so I can do it, and I signed up for the club this past Wednesday officially. During practice the coach asked if anyone else wanted to join in a tournament this weekend, and I raised my hand. To my surprise, he wrote my name down on the list! First week in the club and I'm on a roster...scary, but cool. This morning, at 10:15 AM, I got into my Speedo (barely) and got into the pool to warm up for my first official game in over 10 years. Yes, you read that right; the last game where I remember a clock, a scoreboard and referees was the summer after I graduated from high school (2003).

Now, for those underprivileged people who don't know why this is a big deal because they don't know what water polo is (or think I have a horse that I make swim), let me borrow from an excellent article written by ESPN's Eric Neel:

"Endurance? A water polo player swims 1.5 miles a game, with another player dragging and climbing all over him, pushing his head under the water and saying unkind things about his mamma when he comes up for air.

Strength? These guys egg-beater their legs for 32 minutes in nine feet of water, muscle each other for position and rise up into the air like they're jumping off a trampoline to shoot and block shots.

Agility? They work back-cuts and spin-moves like Kobe and Marvin Harrison. Nerve? They take 50-mph shots in the face and breathe in lungs-full of water. And they keep coming back for more.
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From a distance, the game can look deceptively graceful and fluid. The players seem to glide through the water, the ball skips and hops from one outstretched arm to the next.

I get up poolside, though, and I hear the grunts and gasps. I see the water churning. And I quickly realize that guys getting worked over by mob muscle have it easier than your average water polo player.
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And it isn't just the hand-to-hand that gets me. It's the relentless pace. Forget that they're treading water constantly. Forget that before they even get to things like passing and shooting, they have to survive their opponents' best efforts to drown them like unwanted kittens. Forget all that.

But remember that every goal, missed shot, and turnover means a sprint back down to the other end of a 30-meter pool, and every opportunity to pass or shoot involves a constant clawing just to get to some little patch of free water. And know that any letdown, any hesitation, means almost certain humiliation with a heaping portion of water up your nose and the other guy's flutter-kicking feet in your gut.
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That's the thing, I think, that most impresses me about water polo athletes. The baseline for them, the thing that gets them to the point where their game is like all the other games, is this grueling, relentless struggle to stay afloat and move through the water.

There's something pure about it. They can't take for granted the chance to get a shot or stop a shot, to make a pass or to elude a defender. Everything they do is earned, and their appreciation for what they've earned is higher than any other team-sport athletes I know."

So, that might be a long quote, but the rest of the article is twice as long, and quite entertaining actually, so I recommend the read. Needless to say, I was already out of shape for running, let alone a "grueling, relentless struggle to stay afloat and move through the water." Sound like a crazy thing to do? Yeah, I did it anyways. And to top it off, I survived! We played two games today, and won them both. I even scored a goal (Hooray!). Needless to say, it was a good day, and I had a lot of fun drowning and being drowned.

If I were a piece of meat, would I eat me?

So recently I've been thinking a lot about shapes; particularly the shapes I am in (or not in) at the moment. Having spent most of my high school years at 5'11" and a solid 165 lbs with probably 7-9% body fat, it's interesting to see my body in the mirror before the shower. I haven't grown much vertically (at all, really, but I still hope I will), but I clocked in this morning at a buck eighty (that's 180 for those unfamiliar with such jargon). Now, you might be thinking that fifteen pounds since high school isn't too bad (it was over 10 years ago, after all), especially considering that my freshman year playing water polo in college I crossed into the 200 lbs section of the scale. There is, however, a big difference: I. Am. Fat. Am I obese? No. Is my health teetering on the brink of catastrophe? Nope, not that either. However, according to several different online calculators (thanks, Google, for helping me find them), I am close to 20% body fat. Again, you may sit back and say, "that's not that bad," but let's look at it from another perspective...

I love meat. I mean, love is maybe too weak a word. Our family went vegan a couple years ago, and though my wife won't allow us to buy meat and bring it home, I take every opportunity to cram red, juicy flame-broiled goodness down my throat when we are out and about. And while I like a burger, I absolutely cannot resist a nice, thick, juicy, medium rare (that would be pink with a spot of red for all those who have NO IDEA WHAT I MEAN when I order it and it comes with barely any pink) cut of steak. So in the shower this morning (yes, I'm that obsessed and deprived of meat), I was thinking about such a cut, and then it hit me: how would I react if the filet mignon I ordered was 20% fat when it showed up on my plate? Well I can tell you that I wouldn't be pleased, for starters! No wonder my wife gives me a hard time about my baby belly (you know, that thing men get in compassion for their pregnant wives, but never lose)! On the menu (in high school) she saw the filet mignon she wanted, then they bring it out on the table (after 5 years of marinating, i.e., marriage) and it has literally two cubic inches of fat for every eight of good meat. Now really, tell me how that would make any customer happy? And she didn't just drop a measly thirty bucks for a piece of meat, she bartered her whole life (and eternity, for that matter) to be with me!

So now that we have examined the idea from another angle (for some reason, everything is easier to swallow with meat in the picture), you understand my dilemma a little more (and my wife's, for that matter). My new goal is to get in shape. Have I had that goal before? Ummm...hasn't every person? Let's not answer that, actually, but let's just say instead that yes, I have had that goal before. I'll likely have it again regardless of the shape I find this time around, because getting in shape really means getting in better shape, and I will always have better shapes to be in until I look at least like this guy: Frank Medrano. Might take me a while (by might, I mean, it will, of course), but it seems like a good goal if I want to be the filet mignon my wife thought she saw on the menu over ten years ago.

Who am I and why am I starting a blog?

I guess I should start his blog with a little introduction, though most coming here will likely know a little bit about me. I was born and raised in Northern California, played water polo and swimming in high school, and participated in Boy Scouts and many church activities in my youth. I started my college career at Brigham Young University in Hawaii (yes, there is one in Hawaii), but took a break to serve a two-year mission for my church in Southern France. Upon my return home, I went back to Hawaii to ask my high school sweetheart to marry me (and she actually said yes!). Jen and I were married the end of 2007, and she later graduated from BYU-Hawaii. After her graduation, we moved to Maryland where I attended the University of Maryland, graduating in 2012 in Government and Politics. We have a beautiful (nearly) 18-month old son, Caelen, and look forward to any other additions that might come along in the future.

So that's me in a nutshell. So what made me want to blog? Nothing really, to be honest. I am not a great writer, nor to I have tons of stories to tell, but I figured it is something to share ideas and experiences in life in a little more space that my Facebook profile! The title is really a good description of what you can expect to find on here; prolix is an adjective (descriptive word) meaning "using or containing too many words; tediously lengthy" (thanks Google). Palaver is a noun meaning "prolonged and idle discussion" (thanks again Google). Did I know these words before today? No. "Random Ramblings" and every other title with such a meaning and a good ring to it was taken, so I found synonyms that got the point across and yet still had consonance! The good news is I hope none of my posts are "tediously lengthy," but you can expect to find a little bit of everything from time to time. The part that really made me like the idea of blogging is the fact that I can, in fact, ramble without interruption or someone telling me to correct this or that. Nobody will tell me to shut up either (well, they could, but it would be much more effective to just stop following my blog). So there you have it, a little about me, and a little about the blog-to-be.