I played kickball on Sunday for the first time since grade school. My friends formed a team and I thought it would be a hilarious way to pretend that I am healthy-exercise girl. I was nervous about playing, because I am competitive and like to be good at what I do and because I had been teasing my friend for the past two weeks. (Scott had struck out in a plate appearance in each of the first 2 games). I figured the teasing and the fact that I had missed the first 2 games would karmically screw me. I was right -- sort of...
Once again, I was put in Centerfield. A position for the athletically-challenged. A position I hate. Especially in sports leagues where one field butts against another and center field can go on for miles. Let's just say a bouncing ball is not an easy thing to shag and throw back to the infield.
At the plate, I fared a little better. I actually got a hit (kick?) and scored a run. It was a lot of fun and we won our first game. Had bloody mary's and fun conversation for the rest of the afternoon. I went home early, feeling athletic and great.
I woke up on Monday morning feeling like a) a big truck had rolled over me and b) I had been riding a horse. I am pretty sure that I pulled every muscle from my ribcage down. Who knew kickball could be so physical? Maybe that is why you only play it in grade school.
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