After the middle school lockerroom drama of She made the team and I didn't! How dare she? She gets everything! (ironic, since the speaker was a better gymnast than me at the time and that was all I really wanted), being yelled at by our lacrosse goalie because it was my fault that she couldn't catch the ball?, and those Saturday morning practices that we only went to for the promise of bagels, I left the days of team sports for track and field, cross-country, and of course gymnastics. Saved the passes and slick cuts for gym class floor hockey with Mike and Rob.
Last night's soccer extravaganza didn't exactly ignite a newfound longing for team sports. By the end of things, it was me loitering by the goal while Sean commentated the game. But there were some bursts: a ball to the side of the body, elbows to stomach, ankles rolling and then standing, sprinting after the ball in front of the boys who don't want their RA to write them up.
And today I feel a bit of soreness. I like that, the risk for pain. It's been awhile. For that, I might just go back.