I bowled for about 30 years in two parts. First were my young teenage years, where I bowled in a local youth traveling league. I etched out something like a 145 average. But hitting all the area lanes in a two-county area was a lot of fun.
Then about 10 years later, I joined the newspaper's Wednesday morning league and got serious about it for a while. At my best, I was averaging 195 and bowling every Sunday in a "King of the Hill" competition against the area's top bowlers.
I had a good Hammer 16-pounder, drilled fingertip with rubber plugs. It felt malleable in my hand. I could crank it and get the revolutions and lift for that hard finish at the end. There were few better feelings than seeing the ball build up for that left-hand turn 10 feet from the pins. I had a 289 once with 10 strikes -- solid 10-pin on the 11th ball. (So obviously, I never got over that 300 hump.)
Then came the two hip replacements. And the first time I tried to pick up my 16-pound ball and roll it, I knew that bowling was no more. I lost two things with my hips -- my ability to run, and my ability to bowl.