When Calves Attack!

I've got massive calves. Let's not fuck around. I would estimate my calves to represent approximately 90% of my body mass (not including penis mass, of course. That's a whole separate entity). Now, generally my calves are a good thing. For one thing, they make a good conversation piece. Like when I go to the movies, and people behind me angrily ask why they can't see the screen, and I inform them it's just my calves. Then they're like, "Oh, yeah. Wow." Then they move away. Also, I've always been pretty athletic, and am pretty capable at most sports, despite my lack of technical skill in any of them. Being able to run fast or for long distances makes up for a lot, I've found. Particularly in soccer, which involves a whole lot of running and kicking.

However, every once in awhile, the calves revolt, as massive calves are wont to do. Specifically, they cramp up. Let me tell you, that's fucking scary shit. Once I was in a swimming pool at a YMCA, just kinda swimming by myself after a long day. I was just about to get out of the pool when all the sudden one of my calves cramped up. I literally could not move. I damn near drowned. I pretty much had to drag myself over to the wall and pull myself out of the water all by hand. Then, in my senior year of high school, I was playing in a soccer tournament, and I had not had enough water to drink that morning. Well, halfway into the second half I was chasing down an opponent who tried to dribble down the sideline. The moment I caught him, BOTH of my calves cramped up. I hit the floor. I couldn't move. My legs extended straight out, completely rigid, while the guy took the ball all the way down and scored.

It hadn't happened for awhile, but last night I had our last indoor soccer game of the season. We got through the game, a 9-1 shellacking because we did not have any substitutes. In other words, all six of us had to play all 50 minutes with no breaks except at halftime. Soon as the game was over, I walked to the sideline and attempted to remove my shoe. Only to have my left calve attack in force. Again, I was practically paralyzed from the waist down. I had to have my teammates drag me and all of my belongings out of the bench, then help me stretch my leg for like 10 minutes until it finally relaxed.

You know, it's kinda like having this giant pitbull, all bad-ass and powerful, who walks beside me and guards me against evil. I feed it, I strengthen it, and I'm damn proud of it. But every once in awhile the bastard turns on me and bites a chunk out of my unsuspecting ass.