If you knew me in high school, you knew a slightly-above-the-average soccer player (and that's being generous), a just-for-fun Nordic Skier, and a I-need-to-get-in-shape-for-soccer track runner. Yes, I was that person. I played and/or participated in three sports for the majority of my high school career. Even doing two at once for a season (a very, very long season). Although I was, admittedly, not the standout star on any of the teams I was on, I thoroughly loved being a part of a team (or three, or four) and having that camaraderie. A majority of my friends in high school were made because of soccer and mutual friends from soccer.
So when I decided to "retire" from soccer when I went to college I expected--in advance--that it would be an adjustment: going from having a solid group of people available at all times to no form of that whatsoever. Now, I had a good freshman year of college. I made friends, life was swell with my dear roomie, and I did find ways to get involved. But none of them were of the same nature as my experience on soccer, ski, and track teams. The ~vibes~ just weren't the same. And was I okay with not having that? Yes. I certainly could have existed in college without a team, but I made the executive decision at the end of my first year that I would be joining the club rugby team at the beginning of the upcoming fall semester.
Honestly, it was not just for the team atmosphere, but also because during my first year I didn't have a reason to motivate me to go workout besides the fact that every first year's fear is the freshman 15. So I wanted a reason to guilt me into working out, in a way. If I didn't at least make an effort to go to practice, I would be letting my team down. Guilt works in great ways for me (don't abuse that revelation).
So, to my surprise, quite honestly, I followed through. At the fall involvement fair I put my name and email down for the women's rugby team. And when they invited me to go, I went. And I loved it. Yes, it was very overwhelming and a little anxiety-ridden for the first few games. But I had a team again. And this team invited me to hang out with them on the weekends, which was a massive plus in my book.
This fall season will mark my first year playing rugby. It is still very, very hard to get myself to get off the couch and stop watching "Glow" for an hour to an hour and a half a day. There are some days where I am absolutely exhausted, and cannot bring myself to make my way all the way across campus (the ten minute walk it is). I truly do regret not going to practice each and every time, but every single time it is in the name of self-care and self-preservation.
Over the course of the last year I have felt frustration, exultation, and everything in between because of rugby. Bruises, albeit small (I'm, unfortunately, a hard to bruise person [have you ever heard a more rugby thing ever?]), litter my legs and arms, and sometimes other random places. And I love it. I show my affection by tackling especially well. I laugh about a pass hitting someone in the face instead of the intended hands. I willingly throw myself into a situation where I am tackled, bruised, and hit for 80 minutes every Saturday.
Yes, I love the sport. But, I love the team more. Because of rugby I gained my #girlsquad (can I get a "cliche"?)
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