Jericho: Altar Boy
I spend far more time thinking about exercise than actually doing any.
Today, I thought about doing push-ups. In my current, unbelievably fat and out of shape state, I have very little upper body strength - especially not for my size. Adding some bulk to my arms would be a good, healthy pursuit. Cheap one, too. No need for equipment or gym memberships to do push ups. However, I'm so out of shape that just getting onto the floor in a push-up position would be a workout for me!
I was trying to decide which would be less painful; starting with "girl push-ups", as in, doing push-ups while on my knees and as I lose weight working up to normal "military" push-ups, or just starting with a normal push-up. Both have advantages and disadvantages. With the multitude of problems I have with my feet, contorting them and putting the stresses on them that would be required in pushing-up a 500 pound body might be too much to ask. However, putting those stresses on my knees does not sound any better.
I remembered that at one time in my life, I had very few issues with my knees. In fact, I was quite good at kneeling. I was an altar boy for three or four years in grade school. I was quite used to kneeling and genuflecting - constantly and for hours at a time. I frequently did two or more masses in a row. I often did double shifts (did two week day masses for a full week) and then would do a funeral after mass. There are a couple instances where altar boys were called upon to sit (read: kneel) in vigil. I could go for hours and only be bored, but not in pain.
Sure, I was young and weighed about a third of what I weigh now - I had a little extra weight when I was a kid. But, the body also does some amazing things to protect itself. At some point I noticed that I had developed ... nodules ... on my knees. I had some kind of fat or calcium deposit that added cushion to my knees. The little nodules faded as I went through high school & college. But, in grade school I was a kneeling machine! Too bad those days are gone. I tried to genuflect earlier, something I used to be able to do without a thought to my body. My toes still hurt, I nearly fell on my face and the whole process sounded like my body was making pop corn!
Somewhere in all this remembering, I came back to that 14 year old kid, in his cassock, leading processions and helping the priests conduct their twice daily miracles. Crazy kid. Here he was, 14, starting to feel like a man, being filled with some of the "Christian Warrior" doctrine of the Catholic Church and ... playing Dungeons & Dragons.
I was a big kid, getting close to six foot. In a procession, they usually had three altar boys, the tall one went in the middle. Typically, I cleared the other boys by a clear foot. The shorter boys typically carried a processional candle. I got to carry the processional cross. This thing was huge! It was about eight or nine foot long. It was a pretty serious gauge of brass pipe. The top had a cross bar of the same brass pipe - ours was much like the one pictured above, without as large of a cross bar. But, instead of a crucified Christ, there was a disk with the IHS inscription, something like the one pictured below. Total thing probably came in at some 20 to 25 pounds of brass.
So, there I was, this young holy warrior, clad in the armor of my faith, marching forward, armed with a weapon of the brightest metal, ready to stand forth and defend the Lord God Almighty!
In actuality I was a dipshit geek with a thing for playing D&D and a fascination with polearms. That freeking crucifix felt ... good ... in my hands. If some idiot had ever tried to pull some political statement by shooting up a church, I was just young enough and thought myself just that immortal (and I was just that stupid) that I probably would have arced that holy symbol cum mace into his head. It would have taken nothing to bring down Yahweh's wrath and 15 pounds of brass into the top of a cranium or sweep the staff across a chin and then repeatedly butt thump the poor bastard until there wouldn't have been much left to identify.
Luckily, none of this ever happened. Lucky for me, as I probably would have dropped the crucifix and soiled my cassock. Instead, I spent a great deal of time being overly dramatic with this rather showy piece of holy accoutrement. Being an altar boy meant nearly constant genuflecting. You were the priest's gofer, so you were off running to get this or that, fill this, put that away, light this, extinguish that, etc. Every time you moved across the center of the altar, you were supposed to genuflect in front of the tabernacle. At certain times of the year, this meant a two kneed genuflect. (The Catholics have a real thing for kneeling and genuflecting!)
About the only times one could get out of doing this were when you were in pain or if you had something large in your hands that would make it difficult to genuflect, say a nine foot long processional cross, then a simple bow would do. But! I was an overly dramatic kneeling machine with a holy weapon in my hands. Just because I could, I'd whip that cross around, genuflect and hold that cross out like some glam rocker presenting his axe to a clamoring crowd. It was ridiculous. I'm sure I was a riot to anyone that saw me. I was very serious about these things, I did them well because I could, maybe more "well" than they should have been done.
I wish there were pictures or video, I'm sure it would have been a hoot to see me. I just wish I still had those knees! What a waste!
Today, I thought about doing push-ups. In my current, unbelievably fat and out of shape state, I have very little upper body strength - especially not for my size. Adding some bulk to my arms would be a good, healthy pursuit. Cheap one, too. No need for equipment or gym memberships to do push ups. However, I'm so out of shape that just getting onto the floor in a push-up position would be a workout for me!
I was trying to decide which would be less painful; starting with "girl push-ups", as in, doing push-ups while on my knees and as I lose weight working up to normal "military" push-ups, or just starting with a normal push-up. Both have advantages and disadvantages. With the multitude of problems I have with my feet, contorting them and putting the stresses on them that would be required in pushing-up a 500 pound body might be too much to ask. However, putting those stresses on my knees does not sound any better.
I remembered that at one time in my life, I had very few issues with my knees. In fact, I was quite good at kneeling. I was an altar boy for three or four years in grade school. I was quite used to kneeling and genuflecting - constantly and for hours at a time. I frequently did two or more masses in a row. I often did double shifts (did two week day masses for a full week) and then would do a funeral after mass. There are a couple instances where altar boys were called upon to sit (read: kneel) in vigil. I could go for hours and only be bored, but not in pain.
Sure, I was young and weighed about a third of what I weigh now - I had a little extra weight when I was a kid. But, the body also does some amazing things to protect itself. At some point I noticed that I had developed ... nodules ... on my knees. I had some kind of fat or calcium deposit that added cushion to my knees. The little nodules faded as I went through high school & college. But, in grade school I was a kneeling machine! Too bad those days are gone. I tried to genuflect earlier, something I used to be able to do without a thought to my body. My toes still hurt, I nearly fell on my face and the whole process sounded like my body was making pop corn!
Somewhere in all this remembering, I came back to that 14 year old kid, in his cassock, leading processions and helping the priests conduct their twice daily miracles. Crazy kid. Here he was, 14, starting to feel like a man, being filled with some of the "Christian Warrior" doctrine of the Catholic Church and ... playing Dungeons & Dragons.
I was a big kid, getting close to six foot. In a procession, they usually had three altar boys, the tall one went in the middle. Typically, I cleared the other boys by a clear foot. The shorter boys typically carried a processional candle. I got to carry the processional cross. This thing was huge! It was about eight or nine foot long. It was a pretty serious gauge of brass pipe. The top had a cross bar of the same brass pipe - ours was much like the one pictured above, without as large of a cross bar. But, instead of a crucified Christ, there was a disk with the IHS inscription, something like the one pictured below. Total thing probably came in at some 20 to 25 pounds of brass.
So, there I was, this young holy warrior, clad in the armor of my faith, marching forward, armed with a weapon of the brightest metal, ready to stand forth and defend the Lord God Almighty!
In actuality I was a dipshit geek with a thing for playing D&D and a fascination with polearms. That freeking crucifix felt ... good ... in my hands. If some idiot had ever tried to pull some political statement by shooting up a church, I was just young enough and thought myself just that immortal (and I was just that stupid) that I probably would have arced that holy symbol cum mace into his head. It would have taken nothing to bring down Yahweh's wrath and 15 pounds of brass into the top of a cranium or sweep the staff across a chin and then repeatedly butt thump the poor bastard until there wouldn't have been much left to identify.
Luckily, none of this ever happened. Lucky for me, as I probably would have dropped the crucifix and soiled my cassock. Instead, I spent a great deal of time being overly dramatic with this rather showy piece of holy accoutrement. Being an altar boy meant nearly constant genuflecting. You were the priest's gofer, so you were off running to get this or that, fill this, put that away, light this, extinguish that, etc. Every time you moved across the center of the altar, you were supposed to genuflect in front of the tabernacle. At certain times of the year, this meant a two kneed genuflect. (The Catholics have a real thing for kneeling and genuflecting!)
About the only times one could get out of doing this were when you were in pain or if you had something large in your hands that would make it difficult to genuflect, say a nine foot long processional cross, then a simple bow would do. But! I was an overly dramatic kneeling machine with a holy weapon in my hands. Just because I could, I'd whip that cross around, genuflect and hold that cross out like some glam rocker presenting his axe to a clamoring crowd. It was ridiculous. I'm sure I was a riot to anyone that saw me. I was very serious about these things, I did them well because I could, maybe more "well" than they should have been done.
I wish there were pictures or video, I'm sure it would have been a hoot to see me. I just wish I still had those knees! What a waste!
posted by Jericho Brown at 3/16/2009 10:38:00 AM
7 Comments:
When did we get old?
Ummm ... what year did you graduate high school? :)
Ummm ... didn't
I can't help with genuflecting or "oh my God, when did I get so old (67)" but I can help with a modified push up till you reach buff status. Face a wall, arms length away, hands on the wall in front of your shoulders, bend the elbows and lean into the wall, push back to starting position. Do till the muscles start screaming, that's it. As you gain strength, move further away from the wall. This takes care of the problem of getting down to the floor and back up again.
Here is a momism for you...Where there's a will, there's a way.
or a wall....:-)
Oh! Good idea, Mom.
Now I only need to find a wall that can stand my 500 pounds pushing off of it.
If you hear about an apartment complex collapsing near Seattle, you'll know what happened! :)
Just find a load baring wall in the complex- probably an exterior wall or a wall that goes down the center of the overall complex... but really, it's not getting the full 500lbs of pressure since you're standing, so there's nothing to worry about.
I was never an alter-person. They did start letting girls do it when I was in about 8th grade, though. By then I was already getting tired of going to church and my least favorite part of it all was kneeling. My wedding ceremony sucked only because I had to kneel though the whole damn thing.
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