Jersey #9: Kentucky's Journey

As I've said a few posts ago, it's been a long winter (which would explain some of my animosity at the world lately). I'm never a very happy camper this time of year - ya know, just on the edge of spring but not quite there yet - so it's good to have a little pick-me-up every now and then.

Here is a quote that one of my very good friends posted on a personal blog of ours:

In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.
-Albert Camus


The first time I read it, I didn't think much of it...but after reading it over a few times, I've found that it's a really powerful statement. Just thought I'd share with the rest of you out there who are suffering from the winter/non-rugby blues....

Well, despite being out of commission for about a week, my lifting still appears to be going up! Yay!

Not gonna post all of my lifts, but here are some of my improvements:

Back Squat: 165 x 1 -> 175 x 2

Deadlift: 200 -> 215

Pull-ups: 5 -> 7 (total number reps after 5 sets: 17 -> 29)


So, despite some ups and downs lately, I appear to still be moving forward, which is good. Now I just need this crappy weather to let up so that practices can start and I can remember how much I love rugby!!

In the meantime, here are the lyrics to my favorite song of the moment, by Josiah Leming. The lyrics are a great reminder that sometimes we just need to look all our naysayers in the face and say, "ya know what, I'm gonna do what I believe is right, and you can all go to Hell..."


Theysay:

They say, history will find us on the last train
and we'll make all the same mistakes that they made
and we could never rule tomorrow our way out
love...it's too late now
they say, nothing comes from going against their grain
and oh, we are the diggers of our own graves
and we will crash and burn before our train leaves this town
love...forgive me now

they can burn in hell
they can burn in hell

they say, we will live life dragging on the coattails
holding onto dreams of false fairy tales
and sleeping under bridges where our train breaks down
love...our light will drown

they can burn in hell
they can burn in hell


Hear the song for yourself here
It is the first song on the player at the top of the page.

So when my new camera finally arrived in the mail today, what else could be expected than an extended photo shoot of my most willing subject. Poor Brutus, he endures so much....but isn't he cute!?!?

Okay...so maybe I didn't get to go to San Diego when I REALLY wanted to, but thanks to my friends in the midwest, it looks like I'm gonna get to play in the sun and sand after all!

The champagne classic is a supposedly awesome tournament held every year over on the west coast, and I've always wanted to go. Just the other day I was sitting around the house, moping that all my friends had gotten to play rugby already this year, when I received a facebook message from one of last summer's New Zealand buddies asking if I'd like to go to the tournament with her team. Well....duh! I immediately got to work on making it happen - begging for a plane ticket from the folks, and expressing the fact that I am pretty much bankrupt to a kind Valkyrie who helped me with my San Diego budgeting. Thankfully, I got my ticket and determined that I could probably manage to be a cheapskate for that weekend and still have a wonderful time.

I also found out that they are kind of in need of backs. So, while I may be playing scrumhalf for some games....I may also be playing FLYHALF. Interesting.....I imagine that it may seem like some sort of out-of-body experience, playing in the position of the "other half" for a bit. I have to admit, if I do get the opportunity to play 10, I'll be pretty nervous. But it could be an exciting experience and an opportunity to improve my field vision and running skills.

Whatever happens, I am SOOOO excited to get to play!!!! This trip is just what I need to raise my spirits and get back into things in preparation for the spring season and select-sides. It's also really boosted my training motivation. I had been sick for about a week, but I'm all healed up now and taking on the world again, so that is another reason to smile.

Alright...I'm heading out into the cold now to get in a good endurance session. More on San Diego, my recent workouts, and (hopefully) an alumni trip to Iowa soon!

A long, long time ago in a land called Wales, a little angry man was leading a tired, jet-lagged, delirious group of about 30 rugby girls on a three mile trek through the park back to their hotel from practice. Along the way, we spotted a little cake that said "eat me"......so we did. Then, walking cards and giant caterpillars began walking out from behind the trees.

Okay, so we didn't really eat little cakes....but until today - the glorious day in which a friend posted this photo - I had no proof of ever meeting giant caterpillars. But yes, now I can say with certainty that Alice in Wonderland characters did, in fact, appear out of nowhere while walking through a park in Cardiff, Wales...for serious!

(excuse the poor quality - this was way back in 2004, before everyone had digital cameras)

Haven't done this in a while...but since I've been in a fairly somber mood as of late I thought I might as well post my latest poem. I guess it sort of goes along with my "long winter" mood. Anyways, here goes:



Colorblind


Some of us are blinded from the inside out.
With shrinking, shriveling, sad little hearts
Which turn two sparkling baby blues
To a hollow gray.

All the better to see you with,
My far away, immediate nothing.
Darkness? If only.
It’s the color that’s gone.

Gray as the sunshine,
Gray as the hole in my stomach
Gray as the pathetic, meandering
Apology I’ve imagined for myself
With love, from you.

Gray. Like the hilarity of hope.

No blackness, no dark,
Not blind of objects, nor of light.
Yet straining, tired, and bloodshot…
Numb, as the outside shines – sparkling, bouncing,
Brilliant against the gray, grey…gray -

Yes, blind.
Having seen it all,
And still, nothing but gray.

As I write, I’m sitting aboard a flight which has finally begun making it’s way back toward my so-called home of Philadelphia (sigh). I can’t lie anymore; I’m exhausted. Not tired. Not worn down. Not broken. Just plain exhausted.

Today has been a small microcosm of that exhaustion. As a sort of consolation gift for not being invited to attend the USA "A" camp in San Diego this past weekend, I traveled to Maine for three days of “extreme skiing” with a friend from last summer’s New Zealand tour. Normally, skiing wouldn’t be my activity of choice at the beginning of a rugby season. It’s an inherently dangerous activity, and especially so for me given that I suck at it – but I guess I felt like being a bit dangerous...

And so, I spent money I didn’t have, boarded a flight that had to be gifted to me by my parents, and endeavored to participate in an activity that isn’t quite my strong suit. Despite my fears (or hopes?) skiing went over fairly smoothly. I have the expected aches and pains from more than a few crashes, most from my day of snowboarding, but I’ve come away without any permanent damage, and even managed to get fairly comfortable chasing my much more adept friends down the intermediate slopes. My returning travel, however, has been another story...

I began the day expecting to hop on a flight out of Portland on a direct route to Philly. However, zero visibility fog changed those plans pretty quickly. My flight was cancelled, and pretty soon I found myself on a cramped bus bound for Boston, with a flight that was supposed to head out at 6:30 and arrive in Philly at a reasonable hour. Not so much. My flight out of Boston also ended up being delayed, and a couple of hours later, I finally boarded my flight sometime around 8:30. Countless painful minutes later, we were finally in the air. And here I am.

So basically, it goes like this....I went skiing this weekend to avoid reality. The snow drowned out the sun and sand of San Diego. The skiing drowned out the rugby. And the company drowned out my thoughts. Basically, I had a lot of fun and thought very little about a home which feels anything but mine, a maddeningly unfulfilling job, far away friends, and an uncertain future in the sport I love. But then instead of returning smoothly to regular life, I was given a day in which I had nothing else to do but sit in an airport and explore the darker caverns of my mind.

Which brings me back to my exhaustion.

With so much turmoil and uncertainty over recent months there have been more than a few moments where I have questioned my ultimate goal. I’ve questioned my abilities; I’ve questioned my worthiness; I’ve even questioned my desire. I came immeasurably close to packing it all in and heading out into the great unknown to begin a new life for myself, sans rugby. I tried soooo hard to take that step. I really, really, tried. And you know what the best (and worst) part is? I’ve come to realize I love it. More than anything and everything. I love the places it’s taken me and the friends it’s given me and the experiences I’ve had along the way. I’ve loved the hard practices out in the rain and cold as much as the sunny match day victories. I’ve loved the training and the socializing. I’ve loved the drama and the camaraderie. The grass. The mud. The ball. The pain. The travel. The home games. The friends. The rivals. The players. The coaches. I have loved everything. The gifts. The sacrifices. I have loved. And I love...

And so, I know that I shouldn’t retire from my dreams for lack of love. But as I’ve learned from my horrifically failed attempts at romantic relationships, love isn’t the only ingredient necessary for success. I can love rugby all that I want, but if I’m not good enough, I’m just not. Unfortunately, it’s too early to tell whether or not that’s the case, so I have to keep going. I have to keep trudging through this winter...

I’ve called it the longest winter in my title because that’s what it’s been for me. One long deep-freeze, despite the comparably fair temperatures outside. I made a lot of mistakes last fall. A lot. I played poorly at times, I said things I shouldn’t have said, I did things I shouldn’t have done, and as a result, my world was put into a bit of a blender. I haven’t really spoken about it on here up to this point because it wasn’t really appropriate but, I will no longer be playing for the Philly Women in the fall. They are an amazing team full of talent and wonderful people, but for whatever reason, I was not able to fit the mold. So for an entire off-season, I have been in limbo – struggling to decide where, or even if, I would continue to play. Once again, I will be a rookie – it seems that the Keystone club here in Philly will be my next stop, so at least I won’t be packing up anytime soon. But I have to start all over...learning names and playing styles and proving myself (or not). I have to find out, once again, where and if I fit.

Again, exhaustion.


Yet as I explained before – I’m in love. Hopelessly, recklessly, unconditionally in love with the sport of rugby and all the people and things that surround it. So regardless of the weary legs and broken hearts which are sure to lie in front of me, I’m going to keep pushing forward. Love, ya know...it’s a funny thing. It gives us wings and blinds us at the same time – a rather dangerous combination if you ask me. When soaring into the fog, the chances of crashing increase dramatically. But then, the only alternative is to remain on the ground...



Editors Note: This post was written Monday night, on the plane....I didn't post it till Tuesday, and you'll be happy to know (or maybe not I guess) that I made it home safe and sound around 11:30pm - about nine hours after my initial expected arrival time. Oh well...

Well, it seems that winter has certainly returned to the East coast in full force this week (or finally arrived, however you look at it), and oddly enough, I couldn't be happier. Having lived in Iowa for two years, I repeatedly griped over bone-chilling temperatures which seemed to stretch on for ages; but now I see it as sort of a character building experience. It let's one know that the human being is sturdier than might be expected, and that there are things to be enjoyed in the outdoors despite what may appear to be a less than inviting environment.

The tricky part, then, is getting started. From the comfort of my warm couch, the sound of the wind outside my window and the chill of the cold air seeping its way under the door and into my apartment are enough to deter me from venturing into the great outdoors. However, with the help of my obsession for training and a pleading look from Brutus I inevitably find myself bundling up for a trek into the deep freeze.

Despite the drawbacks, cold weather training sessions have never been a regrettable experience. There's just something really special about sprinting through the cold air and being surprising cognizant of the the nuances of the work my body usually performs without my knowing. It's the one time that breathing becomes tangible; the sting of the air inside the lungs and that extra push in and out make appreciable the work of those two invaluable organs. Not only that, but actually seeing the breath in front of me - the product of my effort in visual form. Moving down the line, my legs, whether covered or not, tend not to work as fluidly when faced with serious chill. On my return jog up the hill to the apartment, I had to continually remind them that, despite their protest, they could indeed continue to move me forward, one leg after the other, and at my desired pace. In addition, all this direction to the lungs and legs must be conducted above the screaming of half-numb fingers. It's a pain just tolerable enough that I remain assured that frostbite is not of concern, but just painful enough not to allow for a moment's respite. I suppose it's natures way of ensuring that all extremities remain intact, but it certainly can provide for a serious annoyance.

In spite of all the aches and pains of the cold weather experience, the beauty of it all inevitably shines through to make every second of discomfort worthwhile. In addition to puffs of crystallized breath rising into the air, the glitter of snow clings to every eyelash. The sounds are also worth the trip - or rather, the lack of them. Especially in a big city like Philadelphia, it seems that the parks and sidewalks are a rather crowded commodity in fair weather. Bikes, dogs, horses, runners, walkers, children, unicyclists - whatever - flock to the great outdoors whenever possible to escape the drudge of a what is one of the filthier cities I have encountered. However, cold weather seems to keep all but the most enthusiastic of those normal park-goers at bay, allowing for an unheard of amount of solitude. Only the sound of birds and the occasional footsteps of other hard-nosers like myself fill the air. When I do encounter one of them, a nod of the head is all that's needed to communicate an understanding. It's too cold to be outside and not be working hard, and far too cold not to open your mind for a moment and look around, appreciating what so many others are missing at that very same moment.

Indeed, I could certainly have chosen to perform the very same workout on a treadmill in the comfort of a heated fitness facility. However, I would have missed the intangibles. Sometimes, it's not the workout in itself that is so important, but the willingness to put in the work despite other obstacles. In rugby, more than perhaps other sports, we must learn to put in our best effort despite distractions. Sometimes the jolt from the last tackle or the pain from a busted finger must be overcome in order to get the job done. Likewise, occasionally sprinting outdoors on the days when the cold would encourage me otherwise is a great exercise in overcoming distractions and pain for the sake of a higher goal.


The moral of the story - winter is painful, but beautiful, too. I challenge all you cold-weather nay-sayers to bypass the drudgery of enduring these last few weeks of gloomy skies and bitter temperatures by facing up to it head-on. Actually experiencing the cold has helped me to not only appreciate what old man winter has to offer, but to grow quite fond of him in the process.

See ya'll out there.

Why post a video of a sneezing baby panda and it's mama? Well...why not?

If, after having thoroughly examined the "Friendsies" album, it is discovered that, supposing yourself and/or an associated party to be certifiable Friendsie material, you and/or associated parties have been thereby excluded and/or under-represented from said album either through negligence on behalf of Jersey #9 Friendsies Album Photo Uploader Associates, or as resulting from lack of possession of said photographs by Jersey #9 Friendsies Album Selection Committee members, offended parties may henceforth submit photographic material suitable for Friendsies Album inclusion to tmccoy09@gmail.com. Jersey #9 Executives and Associates sincerely apologize for any offenses heretofore committed, as demonstrated by current efforts to repair said damages, yet shall not be held liable for emotional distress and/or anguish as resulting from photographic Friendsies omissions, whether accidentally excluded or otherwise, and in addition, retain the right to reject, exclude, or otherwise alter any and all Friendsie submissions whereupon deemed necessary, as determined by the afore mentioned Executives and Associates, to the interests and aspirations of the blog in question, Jersey #9, and associated parties.

Since the apocalyptic weather seems to have passed, the normal chill of February announced to me this morning during my workout that it would be sticking around a bit longer. Let me just say, I hate running. I mean, jogging through the woods - yeah, it's fun. Running while chasing people or a ball or whatever - also fun. But running just to kick your own ass is kind of bizarre. In reality, I believe it to be an exercise in mental strength more than physical. After all, it hurts (sometimes it hurts a lot) and there is no one out there blowing a whistle or yelling or anyone racing you for some prize. And yet, a few times a week I get out there, put my toe to the goal line, and blast off for a leg & lung torture session.

Today was one of those days.

Last night I knew I was in desperate need of building an aerobic base beyond that which is accomplished by interval runs....so I came up with this little diddy:

4 x 100
3 x 200
2 x 400
1 x 800

(1 min. rest between reps, 2 min. rest between sets)

Total meters: 2600

Okay, so it didn't sound that hard. I mean....it looks so tiny and simple on a sheet of paper. But couple those stretches up and down the field with sore legs from heavy lifting, lots of wind, and some serious lung freeze from the cold air...and well, it's hard. I'm not saying I'm in the the best aerobic endurance shape ever or anything (because I'm certainly not), but I like to think that I still have a pretty decent base built up. At any rate, I'll want to complete a few more workouts like this on a weekly basis to prepare myself for the pre-season. After that I can start shortening the distances and focus a bit more on speed and speed endurance (which will be about %1000 more fun).

After my torture session, once my legs had solidified from their jello state and my brain freeze had subsided, I managed to get in a bit of kicking. Brutus is always pretty thrilled about that and provides a formidable opponent when attempting drop kicks. I've gotten pretty good at side-stepping his block/kill-the-ball attempts to slot one through the uprights, though. I'm kinda feeling like this could be the season for my first 3 pointer if by chance I get any runs at flyhalf - J-Wil, you'd better watch your back ;)

Other than that, I did a bit in the way of box kicking, but my legs were pretty shot and weren't really up to it. I decided to call it a day when black clouds took over the sky and chilly rain droplets began to compliment the wind.....brrrr...I guess I've been spoiled by the nice weather we've been afforded up here in Philadelphia - though at the great expense of our southern brethren who were beaten down pretty bad by the tornadoes. Hopefully those kind of storms won't be a sign of more disaster to come for 2008. In the meantime, I think I can handle a bit more cold weather, lung-freeze or not.

Today's workout went pretty well. I felt strong, uninjured, and cheerful throughout the whole ordeal - all three of which are hard to accomplish at the same time. Anyways, here are the results of today's workout:

Deadlifts: (reps x lbs)
5 x 95
4 x 135
3 x 155
2 x 175
1 x 185
1 x 190
1 x 200 (PR)
2 x 185 (F@1)
3 x 155
4 x 155
5 x 155


DB Bench Press: (reps x combined lbs of DB's)
5 x 50
5 x 80
5 x 90
5 x 90
5 x 90
5 x 90

BB Shrugs:
10 x 95
10 x 115
10 x 115

Chin-ups:
3, 3, 3


I had planned on finishing up the workout with V-Sits, but the whole ordeal was taking longer than expected and I needed to get home so I will add abs to my outdoor running, etc. tomorrow. No passing today...woke up too late =( . Maybe if I get a lot of work done early I'll head out and get in a few reps before it gets dark.

Adios amigos...

Brutus had a seizure tonight....it hasn't happened in a really long time, but when it does it's really scary - for both of us. The last time he had one was over a year ago, so I had hoped that it wouldn't ever occur again, but I guess I was wrong. So far as they know, it's nothing treatable - probably epilepsy, so I just have to wait it out if it happens.

Unfortunately tonight's episode lasted a long time. He shakes and loses control of his limbs and I'm pretty sure he loses his eyesight as well. The problem is, when it happens he'll do anything to get to me, which includes tripping over things and falling all over the place, risking injury. He seems to have come out of it now...but I'm still up keeping night watch because usually when he has one, another one follows.

There are a lot of things that I could handle losing in my life, but Brutus just isn't one of them. Sure, his day will come someday and I won't be ready then, either. But right now he's young and happy and healthy...and needs to stay that way for a long time. He's my best friend, my protector, and my constant companion....the very first day I picked him up from the animal shelter I remember saying that whatever happened from here on out, it was me and him...we'd do it together. Since then, we've seen a lot. He lived with me in student housing for a few months, then in my own apartment at UK. When I made the move to Iowa, he came with me and endured all of my random 12 hour drives home - just happy to be by my side. When I decided to make the trek to Pennsylvania, he was with me again - sleeping in the truck with me and all the belongings I had to my name before finishing the 16 hour drive to the east coast.

A lot of things have changed for me since the time Brutus has been in my life. There have been new cities and new schools and new jobs and new teams. There have been a lot of lonely days, hours, and weeks as well - but no matter what, Brutus has seen me through them all. Honestly, I don't know what I would do without him. He's the glue that holds my life together - the one constant. I just really hope he's okay...


"A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself" - Josh Billings

What began as a fairly sluggish and disappointing workout ended well enough. I decided to start the week over from the beginning so as to stay on track...here goes:

Back Squat- (reps, lbs)

5 x 95
4 x 115
3 x 135
2 x 155
1 x 170 (Fail)
1 x 165
1 x 165 (Fail)
1 x 155
2 x 150
3 x 150
4 x 145
5 x 145 (F @ 4)

Pull-ups -
4, 3, 3, 4, 3

Hand Stand Push-Ups (with legs propped against bar) -
8, 8, 8, 8

Barbell Curls -
7 x 55
10 x 50
10 x 45

MB V-Sit Tosses -
20, 20, 20 (6 lb ball)



I was a bit disappointed I couldn't hit the 170 mark with my squats today, but I came in feeling more than a shade under spry, so I guess it wasn't that big of a deal. I will definitely hit it next week. I am curious about the use of heavy negatives when it comes to squats and building strength...I plan on looking it up and reporting back, but if anyone out there has any experience with this, let me know. I have dead lifts and front squats coming as my other major lifts this week and I'm really hoping that building my strength in both of those exercises will help me to improve my cleans when I move to power training.

At any rate, I found a spare patch of grass and a tall fence on La Salle's campus after I was done with lifting and decided to take a few passing reps. It actually went better than I expected considering the performance of my right hand on Saturday. Then again, I'm fairly certain that my hands aren't to blame for any of my passing woes - more likely my feet are the culprits. When passing with my left hand to the right, my right foot seems to be cooperating more with pointing in the direction of the pass than my left foot is when going the the other direction. I have a tendency to want to torque my body around, which has worked well enough for a while, but I know that I'm losing a degree of power and accuracy by passing that way. I'm sure I'll figure it out...it just takes time for the body to learn new tricks I guess.

All right. Time to work - have a good day, all.

In the spirit of renewal, I thought it might be time to update this blog a bit. I added an extra column, a rugby news feed, some fancy-shmancy slide shows, and a couple of my favorite RWC montages. Hope you enjoy...I'll probably be looking at some other gidgets and gadgets to include in the coming days....if you log on and things look kind of in a mess, well...it's probably because I'm screwing around with the format, so try again later.

In other news, the past couple of days have been spent working and catching up on my fitness a bit. After my heavy workout Thursday, I was looking to get to do a little bit of work outside but the rain stamped that out so I did about 35 min. of interval work on the treadmill instead. My legs were pretty angry after that so I spent the rest of the day friday working and using the rainy day to catch up on some reading, etc.

Yesterday I was a little bit on the sluggish side, but I made it out to the field nonetheless and actually managed to get in a pretty decent amount of skill work. Oddly enough, my drop kicks seem to be the part of my game which have improved the most. I don't really practice them very often, so I'm not really sure what that's all about, but oh well...maybe it'll help me along toward my life's goal of scoring a drop goal in a game =).

Working on my passing was also a little weird, because for some reason, my left handed pass has become a bullet, whereas my right handed pass is...eh...not so much. I worked on it for a long time and my right arm is screaming today from the effort, but hopefully I can catch it up to snuff with the left one again. Although, chances are at the beginning of the season I'll have to change my passing form completely so it won't really matter anyways - we'll see though.


As for today, "Stupor Bowl Sunday". Well. Yeah.

I watched a 6N game this morning - Ireland vs. Italy, which provided decent entertainment, even though my fave midget Peter Stringer wasn't wearing the 9 for Ireland. Since then I've just been messing around online...and then I'll probably go for a hike outdoors. And then, well, Brutus and I will probably settle in to watch the Pats and Giants and see what goes there. I don't really have an opinion on the winner, except that it might be cool to see the perfect Patriots stay that way...or I guess it could be cool to see the Giants break their hearts. Whatever I guess - it's something to do. I am quite a fan of Super Bowl parties but most of my friendsies are living in far off lands these days so I suppose I will enjoy the event with a couple of my less-talkative buddies (Brutus & P-Nutt).

Anyways, Happy Super Bowl and Six Nations to all!

It's amazing what a difference the little things can make. One phone call. One kind word. Someone to talk to over a meal of much-needed Mexican food.

A few days ago, I was on the verge of jumping ship. A lifestyle I had invested myself in had turned its back on me. Friendships I had valued were all but dissolved. My passion for a thing I had loved so very much was impossible to detect.

And then, things began to change.

One caring individual took me out to lunch, bought me some comfort food, and reminded me that some people do care. He didn't have to say a lot. Just took some time out of his day to listen a bit and offer some general advice about life. It's not that it even mattered all that much what he said. I think sometimes we just need to be reminded that we are not drowning in the abyss alone - to hear someone say, "Your life sucks right now. I understand that. Only you can make it better, but I will be here cheering you on". I didn't eat a lot at that meal, but I did soak up the company and wisdom of another human being, which was of far greater value to me than the food. Soul nourishment, you could say - and I certainly needed it.

The next day, looking upon my world with slightly brighter eyes, I learned that perspective is a funny thing. When I first began playing rugby, I believed that I was an immediate rock star. I remember imagining (falsely, of course) that there wasn't a girl in the world who could take me down or whom I couldn't take down. I believed I was immensely strong, I thought my passes were amazing, and that my knowledge was unsurpassed. Five years and much criticism later, I see the opposite. I see my passing as weak and inaccurate, my tackling suspect, my strength inferior, my speed downright embarrassing, and my knowledge as verging on the non-existent. In reality, I have likely improved by 100% in every category since my first playing days until now. However, the competition was easier and my standards were much lower. Even so, I believe in all things it is easy to forget how far we've come when we still have so far to go. Luckily I was given a reminder of the value of reviewing perspective upon meeting a few college rugby girls in the gym. Having recently had a discussion about how desperately I needed to improve my strength, I was working very hard on the weights in the hope of making some strides in that area. I didn't say much to the girls, just asked them their names and positions and told them I knew their coach and was thinking about helping out in the spring....Upon returning home, my teammate and their coach tells me, "You are going to love this. One of my girls just returned from the weight room and was telling me about how she had met U23 such and such player at the gym. She says to me, 'ohmygod she's jacked!'"

After I recovered from a fit of laughter, I realized that indeed, perspective is a funny thing. Looking back through the eyes of a wide-eyed college player, I realize now how proud of myself I would have been for having made it this far, and how much I would have killed back then for the skill and athleticism I have managed to create for myself through hard work and dedication.
I realize now that I must keep playing, not only to fulfill the dreams of the wide-eyed freshman college player I once was, but to rediscover the kind of passion which bore those dreams in the first place. I played because I loved it. And you know what, I still love it.


In a case of good things happening in threes, I am also happy to report that some of the absentees from my life seem to be slowly but surely reappearing. It's interesting that only a couple nights ago I would blog about having reached the breaking point in dealing with my losses, only to experience a surge at just the right time as to save my sanity. There is no greater feeling than to hear the voice of a sorely missed friend, especially one whom you were not sure you would ever hear from again, sounding from the receiver of the telephone. It's even better when the words are kind, the temperament is jovial, and all seems to have reconciled without skipping a beat. If the lessons we learn from past mistakes are kept in place, then perhaps a renewed friendship could prove better than the original.



To sum all of this up....I'm on a roll right now. Nothing insanely inspiring or magical has happened - just the return of normalcy. A compliment from a stranger, the voice of an old friend, and the company and kind words of another human at mealtime - all things easily taken for granted when present, and devastatingly missed once gone. Proof that the meat of life lies in the little things. In ourselves. In each other. In being ourselves with each other. As Winston Churchill said,


"Out of intense complexities intense simplicities emerge"


Amen to that.

So...I've never really been a cat person, mostly because they had been the source of allergy misery for most of my life until I found Allegra. However, this isn't an infomercial about the miracles of modern medicine. I just wanted to say that, well....cats aren't so bad I guess. I've recently gotten pretty attached to my roommate's cat, P-Nutt. He attacks Brutus, tries to steal my food, and gets into the cabinets when I'm not looking...but hey, at least he makes happy purring noises when he cuddles. I even broke down and bought him a catnip toy recently because I felt bad that Brutus had so many toys and he had none. Oh well, I guess I'm going soft in my old age. Here is a picture of P-Nutt helping me work today...enjoy!

It's not a permanent switch, but it's nice to see that at least one of the overpaid NFL players is interested in learning about another wonderful sport....check out the article, here.

For those of us with Setanta, there is reason to be excited. The Six Nations begins tomorrow and I couldn't be more ready to watch some exciting international rugby once again. On top of that, the Super Bowl will swiftly be upon us.....what a great weekend, eh?

Anyhow, I found this awesome montage of last years 6 Nations on Rugbydump.com . Great stuff for gearing up to watch this year!