October 1st, 2008: In the past, it's been difficult for me to initiate a consitent weight-training program because of a persistent weakness in my shoulders complicated by a lower back condition that flares up anytime I put any kind of strain on it. Actually my shoulders have always been a bit weak no matter how I've tried to strengthen them. It's frustrating, because the best way to burn fat, bar none, is to build up lean muscle mass. Recently, the problem became much worse. I couldn't curl an eight-pound dumbell and began to panic. I began to wonder if I had a stroke or something. In September, my doctor took x-rays and said nothing physical seemed to be wrong with them so he sent me to an orthopedist. Ortho guy checked me out and said my muscles needed "reconditioning."

Off to Physical Therapy, which I've been in for a few weeks now, and here is where the tale gets interesting.

PT girl notices my balance is very off. My "center line", ie; where I think center is, is off to the right by several inches due to postural anomalies. My spine and shoulders curve to the right and other stuff due to bad postural habits.

So we work on posture and to strengthen certain back and shoulder muscles that apparently I've never used in my life. I also find myself balancing on foam logs running up my spine touching my toes and other strange adventures in conditioning. However, it works, because both strength and poise improve.

Next thing: I mention that my balance has always been so bad that I've never been able to ride a bike. This is something most people find hard to believe, in fact throughout my miserable existence scoffers have offered to "teach" me only to learn for themselves that after a few wobbly feet I invariably fall off to the right. Hmm, she says. To the right? Yes.

I bring my bow in and they study my form, analyzing that problem in my back that seems to prevent my back muscles from kicking in. I mention that only lately I realized I was shooting with the wrong eye; that when I began shooting with my left eye my shooting improved. Usually a right-handed shooter has right-dominant eye, though sometimes there are cross-dominate eyed people it's not common. Hmm, says a second guy, who knows a little about archery.

My PT gave me suggestions to improve my form but my back muscles wouldn't cooperate; nothing would work in synch. Very frustrating. You may see where this is going. Second guy says, "Try something-- try shooting LEFT HANDED."

Sumbitch. Everything was perfect. I drew and my back and shoulders worked perfectly. It was a technically perfect draw.

Consultation between PT and other guy. More exercises. They ask, "Have you considered the possibility you might be left handed?"

After the sensation of being gobsmacked with a 2x4 passed, I realized it's quite possible. When I was in school in the early sixties in the South, if you were left handed, believe it or not, they would tape your left hand shut and force you to write with your right hand. Happened to a friend of mine named Larry. Thanks to my mom, I entered school already reading and writing, but I have vague memories of having my pencil taken from me in Kindergarten and being told to "hold it this way." I always wanted to fit in and be like everyone else, so I would naturally imitate the way other people did things. If everyone else was right handed, then so was I. I've always said my left hand was my smart hand and my right hand was my strong hand.

PT folks said it might be possible if I were naturally left handed and spent my entire life doing things right handed it could mess up my biomechanics and sense of balance. It would explain a lot, for example when people tell me to turn right I often turn left, which some people find funny and others find infuriating.

I asked if this was the case. They said they had never seen or heard of anything like it before so couldn't say, but it didn't affect the course of treatment one way or the other. But it was something I should consider.

So now I'm released from PT, a born-again lefty, wondering where this leaves me. If I've spent half a century doing everything the wrong way, what do I do now?

For one thing, I'll have to buy a new bow.

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November 17th, 2008: Since being released from physical therapy with a clean bill of health, I have been working out like a fiend. I lift weights for an hour, four days a week. I lift to both build mass and to burn fat, which means that I add weight to my barbells regularly, to make them heavier (a practice known as "progressive resistance" training) and I also do a lot of different exercises in the one-hour period in order to keep my heart rate accelerated. This way I also reap some aerobic benefits.

On the days when I don't lift, I hit the treadmill for forty-five minutes. I'm also doing abdominal work, three hundred crunches with the assistance of an exercise ball. I don't do this every day but try at least four days a week. A third of the crunches are straight, a third to the left, a third to the right. That last set starts to ache. After my workouts I usually swim for half an hour.

I've been building this regimen for two months now. My left arm is beginning to catch up with my right arm's strength.

I'm smaller. My clothes fit better and my waist is definitley thinner. But I'm eight pounds heavier. This concerned me until a friend of mine at the gym, a muscular Adonis, told me I looked fifteen pounds LIGHTER. He said I was obviously building muscle mass. Muscle mass is much heavier than fat. I hope he's right. I know my strength is increasing rapidly. If I keep getting smaller and heavier, I'm afraid I'll implode and become a singularity.

With the physical impediments out of my way I'm hitting it with everything my forty-eight year old body has. Thank the pagan gods for Ibuprofen.

I still have a little way to go before I catch up to where I left off before, but promise I will post pictures soon.

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