I put my 17-year-old son in a playful bear hug Friday night to show him 48-year-old Dad is not over the hill yet. The pain early Sunday was unbearable. No, not him. Me. Sera took me to the ER. Turns out I have tennis elbow.
I'm left-handed and that's the one with the tennis elbow. For the last couple of years I've typed pretty much left handed. Carpal tunnel from three decades of banging on computer keyboards (and yes, a typewriter early on) has taken its toll on my right wrist. So I've over compensated with the left.
Which brings me to NASCAR. After coming home from Bert Fish and Motrin kicking in, I took a nap. Sera went to her mom's and Henry IV disappeared into cyber world. So I watched the big race from Homestead on ESPN. Jimmy Johnson came in second, good enough to take his fifth championship in a row.
I watched the whole race, with the exception of a few remote control click sneaks at the NFL games.
It was kind of cool hearing "Daytona" mentioned several times. And NASCAR Chairman and CEO Brian France of Volusia County was there to present the Sprint Cup trophy to Johnson.
This gave me a sense of pride about sense of place on a national level. So while others try to "re-brand" our community, the Daytona 500 and the beach are and will remain our true brand.
And that's a good thing.
If we've learned anything from the great American Festival fiasco, we need to appreciate what we have. The 2011 Daytona 500 can't come fast enough.