Try

Part of my job is observing classes.  When I get the privilege of observing art class, I often participate.  This is what happened this week...

Saturday's a Rugby Day!

Yesterday marked a number of firsts for my rugby career:
1. The first time I started a game playing lock.
2. The first time a scrum collapsed directly onto my brain.
3. The first time my mother, my sister, or my Jake watched any rugby game, let alone MY rugby game.
4. The first time Molly, who recruited me to rugby (and stuff) saw me play.
5. The first time I haven't had to fix my hair at every stoppage of play.

Mom and Molly.

Sister Kelly.

All through college I played prop, and our team's strategy was "Forwards Ruck."  Because the coaches seemed convinced that our forward brains could handle little more than this level of processing, there was much about the game that I didn't understand when I joined the Maryland Stingers last fall.  Apparently, forwards don't just ruck -- they maul, pass, punch, post, and score.  And they do these things on purpose!

What I love about playing for the Stingers is that I've learned more in my 3 cumulative months of practice and matches than I did in college.  I think a large part of this is my brief stint "coaching" a middle school team in LA a few years ago, but another significant reason is that the Stingers are great teachers.

Fun, despite the cold and the score...

Coach Pam makes certain that each of us understands the techniques, the reasons for the techniques, and how they fit into the bigger rugby picture.  The captains and more experienced players pull each of us aside when we make mistakes or are less than stellar, and explain to us what we did wrong and how we can improve.  And we DO improve, immediately, and in the long term.

Sadly, this level of commitment to improvement has not led us to victory yet this season (we've played only two matches).  It has led to some incredible efforts (Lynn diving face first into the mud to stop a try, Ta being pushed over the try line by her feisty forward support, Heimel kicking and sprinting past the other team (and her own team) to catch the kick)! 

Forwards DO ruck!

As Pam said at the end of yesterday's match, our performance was light years better than the weekend before.  And if we can improve to the same degree each week, we'll not get beaten much longer.  And by improve, what I really mean is hopefully some day we can teach Kate that standing there confused about which play we're running *sometimes* counts as obstruction, and that *sometimes* counts as a penalty, and that means we lose the ball.

Baby steps, people.  One lily pad at a time...

Battle Scars

My ankle, part metal since 2001.

Whenever I tell people I play rugby their first reaction is disbelief.  "Tough sport," they say.  "Why would you play RUGBY?"  And the answer is simple.  I play rugby because I can.  I play rugby because women aren't supposed to hit, to slam each other to the ground, to run fast, to throw elbows or stiff arms.  But in rugby, I can do all these things.  I must do all these things.  And I play rugby because it's fun.

A Maryland Stinger's bruise from last weekend's match.

Sometimes, though, rugby equals pain.  But in rugby we see breaks, bruises, and blood as proof of our strength, courage, and dedication.  Our battle scars become status symbols.  Hell, sometimes I think we wear clothing cut just so others can evaluate the color palette of our bruises or the length and depth of our scars.  Those marks mean we have struggled, we have taken a hit, and we have survived to score another try, to support another scrum, and to win another match. That's why I play rugby.  

And maybe a tiny part of me plays rugby just to piss off my mom...

In the Beginning

In high school I wanted nothing more than to be good at sports.  Lucky for me I went to a high school to which entry was granted based on academic performance.  As such, the athletic talent didn't run so deep.  But with my genes I quickly sunk to the bottom of the shallow barrel.

A tri-sport athlete every year, I was slightly better at volleyball and soccer, but loved nothing more than basketball.  Each season I joined the team thanks to the no-cut policy, and each year I warmed the bench.  I  began on the sub-freshman basketball team (I was the sixth man on a six woman team), and slowly worked my way closer to the front of the 20-girl JV bench.  By the end of junior year,  I was captain of the JV team, and sitting contentedly on the very end of the varsity bench.  Senior year the coach took pity on me and dressed me as varsity (#45) for every game, but I rarely saw more than two or three minutes playing time that season.

Despite the disappointment, the lack of playing time, and the skill deficit, I never quit.  Almost every year I was voted most dedicated or most improved by my team.  Every year I was desperate to get better.  I ran my hardest during conditioning, listened to and loved my coaches, and eagerly hoped for the day I would prove to everyone just what kind of athlete was hiding at the end of the bench.

I graduated from high school nearly twelve years ago, and after a long hiatus, that determination and desire to succeed has come rushing back.  I could conjecture (and do most Tuesdays) about what buried that drive and dedication so deeply for so long.  I quit exercising, quit writing, quit jobs, quit relationships, quit cities, nearly quit everything.  But what I know is this.  I'm back.

Since March 2010, I have been tirelessly pursuing athletic and personal goals for no other reason than to prove to myself I can achieve them.  It began with a simple goal: run a 5K.  From there I progressed to a 10K, and then to a half-marathon.  I've set my sights now on a successful rugby season and completing The Nation's Triathlon, seeking to raise $2,150 along the way for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society through Team In Training.

I hope you'll join me (and support me if you can) on my journey toward this and other goals.