Soccer

I used to love playing soccer in highschool. I can barely remember why I even started playing (something to do with being Varsity my first year, I think), but I can definately remember all of the good times I had. I just remember the feeling of joy I used to get playing soccer, at running up and down the field (sometimes with the ball, sometimes after it), of running to and from soccer practice and racing Ryan back to the school. I miss all the drills and the sense of accomplishement that came with mastering a new skill. I miss the feeling of awesomeness that came when I got the ball of an opponent, or managed to sneak past without giving up the ball myself. And I definately miss the road trips, inside jokes, crazy songs we'd make up, and feeling of being part of a team - of something bigger than me. Oh, and I really liked it when we won games.
But then I stopped playing during the last practice of my senior year. I don't need to go into the nitty gritty (and largely unimportant) reasons that I stopped playing, other than that I stopped playing because it wasn't worth the drama that often follows large groups of teenage girls. But really, what did this accomplish? Nothing, except that I stopped playing a game that I loved, gave me joy, and allowed me to physically take out whatever frustrations I might be feeling in the rest of my life.
We played soccer today at work. A big soccer game with 20+ people that lasted over an hour. And I loved it. I'm a little rusty (come on, it has been 10 years), but it felt right. So now I'm on the lookout for an adults league in Victoria that will let me rediscover my love the game. But first - tomorrow I'm off to buy cleats.