I have started to play soccer [football]. This was my first week. I went to my first practice on Tuesday, and I am recently outfitted with new shorts, socks, shin guards and cleats. Today, I played in my first game.
Over the last couple of years, I’ve been wondering at the tendency to not attempt to do new things once Real Adulthood is reached. It’s hard for me to know if I’m alone in the restlessness. There are some people who do pick up new pursuits–lots of people. And I’ve never heard anyone really complain about it. So maybe it is just me. Maybe it is the inertia of routine, the lack of free time, the exhaustion. And then, a sort of mental cabin fever.
So I have been taking up some new things; mostly things I always wanted to do and talked myself out of over the years. I finally picked up soccer. That brings us to today. I’ve been reading over the game rules and particulars, but I have only a rudimentary understanding still. I was aghast when the coach started me at forward, but I quickly realized that the real runners were the midfielders. Also, within 10 minutes, I had pulled the holy fuck out of my left quad. Looks like I missed that one when stretching. Whoops!
It was clear, when the coach put me back in later that I couldn’t manage; apparently I was visibly limping. I watched the rest of the game, recommended my type of cleats to another player and decided that I’d wait til I got home to use the restroom, where it would matter less if I collapsed on the floor.
While icing my quad at home, I discovered another memento of this day: I hadn’t thought about sunblock at all–it was very, very cloudy. Well, yeah.
Can’t wait til next week.