Luckily, I woke up in time (at almost 2am) to see the Phillies bat in the ninth inning, though I saw none of J.C. Romero’s shutdown of the Rays in their half of the ninth. It was great to see Bruntlett sneak across home plate on Ruiz’s feeble hit down the line. I smiled wearliy and went to bed, and when I eventually woke up this morning I couldn’t quite remember at first if I watched the game or dreamed about it.

Luckily it was a good dream.

I don’t often write here about sports stories, but I like stories that have a good message, and this one does. If you’re not a Phillies or baseball fan, Jimmy Rollins is a superstar shortstop who won the Most Valuable Player award two years ago. Yet in yesterday’s game he failed to run hard to first base, thinking the ball he’d hit was going to be easily caught for an out. When the ball was dropped, he had squandered a chance to be on second base instead of first.

The story here is not baseball or sports — it’s about taking responsibility for your actions no matter who you are. It’s also about management — Charlie Manuel yanked Rollins out of the game as punishment, sending a clear message about accountability. And then it’s about how you act when you get chastised publicly.

He took his medicine. Jimmy Rollins took his benching yesterday like a man, like a teammate, maybe even like the leader he purports to be.

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People with chronic health problems can improve their health and quality of life by learning how to exercise safely.

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These 76ers throb with the energy and impatience of youth. They remind you of teenagers presented with the keys to their first car. They quiver to be gone. Rev it. Gun it. Floor it.

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It’s easiest to change the mind by changing behavior, and that’s probably as true in the office as on the pitching mound.

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When the weather is cold, it’s hard for me to get motivated to exercise, since my preferred venue for exercise is the outdoors. I know that’s a weak excuse (and I have plenty of indoor exercises I could do), but I am literally a fair-weather exerciser for the most part. Now, as the temperatures creep above 50 degrees farenheit, I am ready to get back into an exercise routine. And my waistline says it is about time!

So, here are some interesting findings about exercise. First, on weightlifting, in this NYT article, “Does Weight Lifting Make a Better Athlete?” As it turns out, the question of whether weight training matters to serious endurance athletes is a matter of debate.

Now, I certainly am not a serious endurance athlete, but I figure I can learn best practices by studying what they do. In this case, it’s not clear what is best. Guess I won’t worry about having let my gym membership lapse.

On the other hand, there’s another article that extols the merits of an equipment-free workout staple: “An Enduring Measure of Fitness: The Simple Push-Up.” I’ve never been fond of pushups. Maybe it’s my bias toward technology that makes me think if I am using a machine to exercise then it must be more effective. Maybe it’s because I can’t make any excuses about not doing pushups, for which no external equipment is needed.

But this article makes me think I should quit whining and drop down on the floor and start working out:

The push-up is the ultimate barometer of fitness. It tests the whole body, engaging muscle groups in the arms, chest, abdomen, hips and legs. It requires the body to be taut like a plank with toes and palms on the floor. The act of lifting and lowering one’s entire weight is taxing even for the very fit.

So, now I have another exercise to feel guilty about not doing. Unless I change my ways and get started.

That’s the essence of amateur athletics as far as I am concerned: digging deep within one’s self to become the best you can. So I have deep admiration for athletes, especially young people, who refuse to be held back by the weak hand they’ve been dealt as physical specimens. They are inspirational proof that so much of success in sports derives from heart and spirit — and that’s a great lesson for succeeding in all aspects of life, as well.

So, here’s another heart-warming account in the NYT of a young man who fights the odds and is a winner in many ways: “With an Iron Will, He Finds a Way.”

Carter, 18, is a 103-pounder whose legs end at his hips, whose right arm stops just after his elbow and whose left arm is even shorter. He had the rest taken from him at age 5 because of a blood infection that required extensive amputations.

Take a look at the photo from the NYT — it’s astonishing that this young man can compete at a high level, with no leverage from his legs, no fingers to grip with, and arms that give him diminished reach.

Yet he qualified for the state tournament!

Carter has compiled a 41-2 record this season for Hillsboro High School, about 55 miles east of Cincinnati. He has also won a handful of tournaments and inspired nearly everyone who has watched him.

Outside of the wrestling hall, he’s clear and articulate about his attitude in life.

“I don’t look at myself as different,” said Carter, who uses prosthetic legs when he is not wrestling. “I wrestle like anybody else. I go to school like anybody else. I can live on my own like anybody else. I can do anything anybody else can do. I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. Some people do.”

It’s a great story — read it!

Andrew, who has surfed before, insisted I would be able to do it. Tina was psyched to try it, and so was Mike. Finally, I decided to take a chance and try it, why not? So what if I fell in the water a lot. Plus, even though I wanted to go on the Medicine Hike and learn about all the plants that have medicinal uses, my feet really really really did not want to do any more hiking any time soon.

When we got to Puerto Viejo we had determined the best day and time to do the surfing lesson would be the next morning, but we had nothing set up in advance. No problem, Dawn knew just who to call, and she set up our lesson with Beto, the local surfing guru from Uruguay with dreadlocks and a completely laid-back vibe. After a brief description of what the lesson included, Mark was in, too, so there were five of us.

We Meet Beto

Mike and Mark decided to check out the nightlife in Puerto Viejo, so they rolled in just a few hours before our lesson began at 8 AM and had the added challenge of a hangover. Beto picked us up in a beat up old Subaru station wagon with surfboards on the roof. “Oh, man, I didn’t know there were five of you or I would have brought my bus, man,” he said. Mark graciously crawled in the back among Beto’s miscellaneous clothes and bags, to bounce along the horrible road from our cabinas to the beach location Beto likes for teaching beginners.

Only one window in the car worked and I was afraid I had broken it when at first I couldn’t get it to roll back up again. Beto drove like someone who hasn’t a worry in the world, including any about safety. We bounced around in the back seat and Mark slid from side to side in the back.

The Surfing Lesson Begins

Once we got our boards out on the beach, Beto began explaining not only what we were going to do, but the mindset we needed to accomplish it. He knows how to communicate both the technique and the attitude required to surf successfully.

We learned how to paddle properly first, then to sit on the board, “so you won’t look like beginners.” Sitting on the surfboard is harder than it looks, but I found after a while that my body learned how to adjust to the waves and stay balanced pretty comfortably. Paddling was quite tiring, since I am not a swimmer and just don’t use the muscles in my arms and shoulders that way. At first I wondered how I would be able to keep this up, but surprisingly after an hour or so I started feeling stronger and was cutting through the waves more powerfully. Maybe I was excited by then about what we were doing.

We Learn “Up!”

For the fact is, all of us in our group stood up and rode waves in to shore in our first and only lesson. Andrew has surfed before, so he doesn’t really count (just joined us for the fun of it and to pick up some pointers). But the other four of us raw beginners had the thrill of jumping up, planting our feet on the board, and balancing back and forth as needed to ride the waves.

It was a great feeling! I struggled at first, though. Beto had taught us the technique of “up” on the sand. We lay down on a line dragged in the sand and went through the motions of paddling, waiting for him to shout “up” and then we were to place our hands under our chest and push ourselves up quickly, landing with our feet on the line and our knees deeply bent with our arms loosely out for balance.

Over and over we practiced until Beto was satisfied. “Up means up,” he explained, “it does not mean think about getting up. It means right now, force yourself up instantly!” Then he solemnly told us that since we all had mastered “up” on the sand, we all were now able to do it on the surfboard. “The sand and the board are the same. If you can do it here, you can do it there. Only your mind can get in your way. You must not think of anything else except ‘up’ and do exactly as you do here on the beach.”

So, when I repeatedly failed to stand up on the board in the water, I thought about what Beto said and I drew on my athletic experience and sent myself back for more practice. I went back to the beach, dragged a new line in the sand, and practiced “up” several more times, convincing my mind and body that this was simple and easy for me to do.

When I went back in the water, on the next wave I got “up” exactly when Beto yelled the word and found myself standing on the surfboard in the water, riding my first-ever wave. And after that feeling, I wanted to do it again and again, and my arms didn’t seem so tired as I paddled back out each time. Sure, I fell off after that sometimes (Beto said I had the best wipeout of the day), but I rode many more waves in and found myself a new sport to work on.

Tina was one of the first of us beginners to stand up, drawing praise from Beto. However, when she messed up, he seemed to take it personally: “Tina, why you do that? Why you not do what I tell you?” Tina was “Tina,” by the way, and the rest of were simply “Bro” for much of the lesson. Yes, Beto likes the ladies and Tina got special attention.

Beto Shares His Wisdom and Vibe

Beto truly has a way with words in his broken English. He gets the point across very effectively. He’d line us up, waiting for the right waves, and then he’d encourage us by saying, “This a really good wave. Don’t f*** it up!” I got the point — he’s passionate about surfing and he wants us to be, too. A good wave is a privilege and should not be wasted.

After the lesson, we loaded the boards back on Beto’s Subaru and then walked to a nearby cafe where we ate and relaxed, basking in our glory. We had surfed! Seems like everyone in town knows Beto, including many of the ladies. There was no shortage of visitors to our table. And while we Americans had various versions of sweet or greasy food, I noticed that Beto had a big green salad with tuna fish.

We hung out with Beto for quite a while, and tipped him very generously, too. He really is an excellent teacher, and when I go back to Puerto Viejo I want another lesson with him, and would highly recommend him as a teacher to anyone travelling there. I’ve got some great video of him talking about what he does and will post it here as soon as I get it edited. Nothing conveys what Beto is like better than seeing and hearing him for yourself, except taking a surfing lesson with him.

Beto shared some of his local culture with us, as well, and so our whole group mellowed into the surfer vibe that Beto lives most of his life in. Tired and happy, I retired to the hammock at Casa Viva and spent most of the afternoon pleasantly napping, listening to the birds and the surf, peacefully reflecting on my good fortune to be “chillaxing” in such a beautiful, fun and friendly place.

If you’re headed to Costa Rica and thinking about trying surfing, or you’re an experienced surfer headed to La Salsa Brava in Puerto Viejo and want tips about the best spots to surf, I urge you to look Beto up. His full name is Alberto Torres, and his Surf School and shop is called Legalize. Ask anyone in Puerto Viejo how to find him and they can tell you. Call him at 506-885-9688 or email him at betolocks@hotmail.com. Tell him Ted sent you!

But here’s an article that is new news: “Finding May Solve Riddle of Fatigue in Muscles.” Personally, I didn’t even know this was a riddle. I thought it was well understood that lactic acid causes the pain in tired muscles. Turns out I am at least six months behind the times on that one:

For decades, muscle fatigue had been largely ignored or misunderstood. Leading physiology textbooks did not even try to offer a mechanism, said Dr. Andrew Marks, principal investigator of the new study. A popular theory, that muscles become tired because they release lactic acid, was discredited not long ago.

Instead, here’s the latest theory:

In a report published Monday in an early online edition of Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, Dr. Marks says the problem is calcium flow inside muscle cells. Ordinarily, ebbs and flows of calcium in cells control muscle contractions. But when muscles grow tired, the investigators report, tiny channels in them start leaking calcium, and that weakens contractions. At the same time, the leaked calcium stimulates an enzyme that eats into muscle fibers, contributing to the muscle exhaustion.

Now, this research is being published even as we endure a media circus over whether Roger Clemens has used performance-enhancing drugs (his trainer says he did, but Roger’s lawyer says he didn’t — who do you believe?). So one of the first questions that comes to my mind is, can this knowledge be used to create drugs that keep calcium from leaking, and so improve muscle endurance? And the question that follows immediately after that is, should we?

That idea, “is sort of amazing,” said Dr. Steven Liggett, a heart-failure researcher at the University of Maryland. Yet, Dr. Liggett said, for athletes “we have to ask whether it would be prudent to be circumventing this mechanism.”

“Maybe this is a protective mechanism,” he said. “Maybe fatigue is saying that you are getting ready to go into a danger zone. So it is cutting you off. If you could will yourself to run as fast and as long as you could, some people would run until they keeled over and died.”

Or forfeited their place in the hall of fame, retracted their world records or gave up their gold medals. Science and competition are not always a healthy combination.