Not the Spanish GP…

There was going to a wonderful in depth look at a fascinating Spanish GP with a couple of very acute observations in to the strengths of the Red Bull and Vetter, and where Hamilton may have a chance. There still might be (it’s a long flight), but right now I’m going to talk about something else.

I’m going to touch on the feeling of being alive and when some of those moments are. It all started with an interesting discussion over a couple of IPA’s with friends last week that had led in a rather circular route to where we are today.

We talked about those moments where the adrenalin surges through you.

In my life there are only a couple of times I’ve been involved in a fight, typically I try to avoid it for any number of good reasons, most notably they tend to hurt and I’m a wuss when it comes to that.

I’m not suggesting you go out and hit someone, but if you’ve never actually landed a punch you may want to consider it, it’s really a quite incredible, life-affirming thing to do. For a few moments you will feel like the sort of man that appears on aftershave commercials. Yeah it was that powerful.

First one I’m going to talk about was my clearest of clear victories. Somewhat egged on by friends I’d some how got into a strange feud with a redhead geek bully Johnny at school. Now looking back I see Johnny as a very sad character and would only pick on those he felt were bellow him on the school food chain. As bully went, he was not very good.

I’m not even sure what started it, but one day after school I got hit a couple of times by him and ended up walking away, totally humiliated. The only advice I got from mum about it was to stop being stupid and if I get hit again to hit back.

The next opportunity did not exactly go my way but I’d like to claim some level of moral victory. I found myself in a similar situation, surrounded by a group of kids looking for free entertainment, and it’s not hyperbole to say Ghandi would have been proud of my desire not to be involved. I got pushed to the ground, got up and walked away a grown up arrived and the kids that collect for these things all ran away.

Afterwards one of the tougher kids did come up to me and say I did the right thing and was impressed, I think the shaking and working hard to hold back the tears may have taken the edge off the admiration. While I’d never claim victory, it’s clear I was the moral winner.

Round three was a few days later, we were walking home from school along a back alley and there he was again, I don’t recall a large group of kids standing around, but again I was planning on ignoring him and not getting involved when he swung his school bad around and tried to hit me with it. Something went in me and I swung at him. Pretty sure I did not come close to connecting, but I was now committed.

What followed seemed like minutes of pushing and hitting, but I asked Adrian last week, who was there, about his recollection and he swears it was over in seconds. It ended when I grabbed his ginger hair and drove his face into my knee and that was that.

By the way, Adrian insisted I use the word “drove” in that sentence, he tells me that is how it was.

With Johnny on the ground clutching a bloody nose I turned around, picked up my bag and walked off unquestionably the victor.

I’m sure I was shaking like a leaf with massive amounts of adrenalin coursing through me. Seriously for a moment, if you’ve never done it before getting into a fight is an incredible rush, I understand why people get into the boxing ring.

I’ve had my fair share of adrenalin filled moments since then. Rolling rally cars, the starting grid of a Formula Ford race and getting a phone call from the ex that her daughter told her dad that I hit her (therapist “I’d not hesitate for a second to stand up and say there is no chance that it happened”). All had huge rushes that go with them, today I know how my body reacts to the sudden release of adrenalin. A lot of shaking and 15 minutes later I want to vomit.

But for that incredible few minutes it’s an extraordinary feeling. And nothing has ever produced a rush like driving my knee into a bullies face when I was 13.

I’m not saying the feeling of that moment drove me on a life long quest to recreate that first high, but it does explain a few choices I’ve made and hobbies I’ve chosen.  Having said that, hitting myself in the face with a cricket bat would less painful that some choices I’ve made.

So far we’ve not discussed where I was going today, but it’s all to do with the rush that comes with it. I do regular blood work and last week it came back a little squirrelly, we talked about the stress in my life, both in my personal life and in changing careers.

We did a scan and that never showed up anything. Puzzling, but we did more blood work and it was still here. A couple of nights ago I was doing my self exam and felt a lump on one of the boys. OK, a quick phone call to James’s office said it could be any number of things, cyst, perhaps an infection but come in as soon as you can.

That was Thursday morning, I saw James that afternoon for the third time in a couple of weeks (ear infection is still not going away after even more antibiotics). After a quick discussion and feel he furrowed his brow and set up an ultrasound exam for the boys on Friday morning.

Tomorrow I will know more. The radiologist would not share the results with me Friday, and I get that’s normal, but when the phone rings and I see James’s number pop up it will be a rush that will bring me back to being 13 again and walking up the alley on the way home from school.

By the way, I understand Johnny is still a rather sad character and lived with his parents into his mid 30’s and they finally told him to leave and take his collection of ex-military Land Rovers he was buying and selling with him.

One last aside before I go, there is only once I’ve really hit anyone and actually landed the punch and knocked them down, and that was my brother when he was 16. He deserved it (and my parents were not exactly supportive, but let it go with no further mention) and that’s a story we will save for another day.