Day Three: Wherein I Help an Unseen Eleven-Year-Old Smell Like a Man
I awoke this morning before the sun. I opened my blinds to a firey orange suggestion that it may soon follow my lead. I arrived at work bleary-eyed and as I approached the glass doors that lead into the cafeteria, I hit an icy patch that sent me into the splits. This was an unwelcome test for my healing groin that I thankfully passed without much more than a heavy sigh. The glass doors and windows to the cafeteria are tinted, so I wasn't sure if anyone inside saw me pull a Jane Fonda on the pavement. Thankfully, I was spared the laughter.
There was a new urine handler there today. That makes 4 in the rotation. It must be a desirable position. I had a good workout today, running sprints and lifting weights. It feels good to be running at full speed again after snapping my groin off the bone a few months ago. Being injured sucks, but there is something extremely rewarding about building yourself up again and climbing out of the hole you found yourself stuck in. I'm just about out of that hole.
I intended to do some Christmas shopping today. The countdown to Santa's chimney aerobics has reached a short 6 days. I wonder if the old guy does yoga to prepare for all that contorting. And with all of the gas fire places around these days, does Mr. Jolly have to adjust his approach? I hope he's not a smoker. My intended Christmas shopping hit a snag when I realized that I was hungry. I stopped at Whole Foods and ended up doing a bit of grocery shopping and eating. I was also asked by a woman to lend my nose to her fragrant dilemma. She was trying to pick out a cologne and some deodorant for her 11-year-old son. I deemed her selection "a bit too musky", a piece of advice I thought would end the conundrum. In fact, this advice merely opened the flood gates to an arsenal of creams and salves and colognes and sprays, all in an attempt to find the perfect scent that says, "You may be 11, but it's time to start smelling like a man." Good luck with that, kid.
I never made it past Whole Foods, but I did manage to find a few good Christmas gifts there. The tight ends have drawn names for a Secret Santa gift exchange. I drew long snapper/tight end Mike Leach. He doesn't know this, and I am sufficiently confident that he won't find out by reading this publication. He is, in fact, a Republican. He has no time for the liberal viewpoints often associated with this newspaper. Ronald Reagan is his hero. George W. Bush is a good president. Newt Gingrich is cool. Bill Clinton ruined America. These facts have weighed heavily into the process of buying him a gift. He really is a great guy, we just have drastically different concepts of reality.
That is one interesting thing about life in the NFL: I get to work with guys from all different walks of life, different socio-economic backgrounds, different beliefs, different hometowns, and different motivations, to achieve one common goal. I am challenged daily as a member of the Denver Broncos, both physically and mentally. We all learn a great deal from each other, but Newt Gingrich is still a douche.
-- Nate Jackson
Nate Jackson, when not on injured reserve, is a tight end with the Denver Broncos. Tune back in all this week as he sheds some light on what a week in the life of an NFL player is like.
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