Forgive me father, for I have sinned, it has been one month since my last confession... OOPS! I almost forgot, this isn't confessional!
What has kept me from visiting? Since July 15th life has gone into hyperdrive. The chaos began with a harried 2 hour drive out to Grandma Vicki's. The kids stayed for 4 days, through which I competed in the World Masters Games on an indoor volleyball team.
Natasja put the wheels in motion about mid-march. In my wildest dreams I wouldn't have considered myself worthy of an international competition, but Natasja's unwavering certainty convinced me it couldn't hurt to try. After all, hubby was already committed to run track, and I cringed at the thought of letting him have all the fun, while I sat in the stands with the kidlings. My nervous energy always made life as a spectator painful.
Remarkably, through an interwoven network of volleyball connections, our team came together. As a reminder of how small the community of active athletes gets over time, our initial practice turned into a reunion of sorts, with most of us having met or competed against each other at some point in the distant past. At first, it seemed like some obscure goal -- we were coming together to play in the Masters, and of course our skill level didn't matter, because as the promos went, we were qualified through our
passion. Our first few practices were low-key and scattered. We each tentatively registered, willing the rest of the seemingly semi-committed 7 to follow suit. With only one moment where it seemed to all fall apart we were remarkably all registered and the adventure began.
Two weeks before the Masters our intensity finally heated up, we had secured a coach, and had practiced together just more than ten times. It was through these practices that we were able to gain a sense of the task ahead of us, and gel as a surprisingly competitive team. Over 8 sets in 3 days, or approximately 24 games, we gained momentum, each game solidifying our team strength, and increasing our drive. Typical of the sport we all loved, our momentum ebbed and flowed with each point, and each game, but as our emotions rode the waves our tenacity and strength as a team shone through. We dug deep, we kept positive and we pushed hard, right to the last point. As our bodies screamed for reprieve, and as the unexpected threatened to derail our hopes, we prevailed.
As a 37-year-old mom of two boys, I scoffed at hubby's athletic aspirations, and imagined my competitive sporting career was long dead. The Masters changed that perspective. Sure there are no Olympic dreams in my future, and the glory of Gold being placed around my neck is some outrageous fantasy, but the thrill of competition and drive for excellence is reason enough. For 4 days parents, grandparents, business leaders, and teachers turned the tables, leaving the stands and entering the fray. What was striking was the energy and vitality evident in every participant, and the unbridled enthusiasm for sport. Throughout the week it was evident, the greatest driver was love of sport. What else would propel the 73 year-old Indian man to travel across the world with no financial support to run 100 metres? Or the 70ish Brazilian volleyball player to enthusiastically proclaim she did 100 push-ups a day, while providing us a glimpse of the sinewy power hidden within her biceps?
Our last day competing Natasja turned to us and asked, "Who's up for Australia in 4 years?". My instinctive response following the magical experience was a resounding, "Count me in". Knowing Natasja makes things happen, I'm now questioning my sanity. Will I still be up for the challenge at 41? This is the test, if I've learned anything from that week at all, it would be, 'Sport for life' - keep at it, you're never too old.
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