Spikes and Cleats

addicted-2-running:

I think there is a special bond between all runners who have ever been injured. Like we all have felt the pain of not being able to run due to injury and understand each other in a way that others do not

So true, so true…

Jose Mourinho is leaving. This is the email I got from my mom:

Your team needs a new coach. Are you going to be flying to Madrid for a job interview this summer? ;-) 

Don’t I friggin’ wish, Mother… 

Assume for one second that I’m actually qualified (Do it- it’s a really funny fantasy), I still don’t think Madrid would quite be ready for a blond American girl. 

But, y’know, I’ll be here if they ever are, hehehehe. 

F-YEAH NEW ENGLAND

2-0 road win that the analysts said couldn’t be done!!! And after all the drama, and injuries, and ridiculous calls, too!

Hug it out, home team. You’re amazing.

On Losing

I’ve been trying to think about what to write tonight because I’ve got to write something. I guess this is it…

There are things I’ve learned from being an athlete. Pick an emotion and I’ve felt it for my sport, you know? Pick a life lesson, and the track has taught me part of it. I know about winning, I know about losing, and I know both are impermanent, even though only winning feels that way.

I know that nothing is more frustrating than being on the bench when you’re fit for competition. I know that falling short of a victory causes an ache beneath your ribcage that seems like it’ll never stop. And afterwards? You want to fling yourself down and cry, or punch a bunch of lockers, or otherwise fly out of control. But it’s your control that got you that far in the first place, so you can’t do that, not for long. You just have to wait out the pain- and you’re strong, so you will- but, damn, it sucks. 

You can’t sleep, or you wake up in the middle of the night because your legs hurt and your body won’t let you be still. Maybe it happens night after night, or maybe only the first. One morning, you’ll get up and find your heart is mostly pieced back together. 

I know about all that.

I don’t think it’s possible to be an athlete without knowing about all that.

Of course, I don’t know about being a professional, or being a man, or carrying the weight of anything besides my own name, but… if it’s been a restless, heartbroken night in the white side of Madrid, it’s all right. I understand. 

And I love this team as much as ever.