Don't Want to Pull a Hammy*

Remember that kickball team that I randomly joined? Well, we had out first game last night. I was a little nervous, for a couple of reasons:

1. I only know one person on the team


2. I didn't really know where I was going


3. I can't claim to actually be good at kickball (but then again - can anyone?)

I printed out directions, I glanced over the field map, I considered finding a way out of it, but in the end I went. I had to circle the field at least twice because I couldn't find a spot, but then I found a nice little neighborhood to park in and walk over. I spotted my friend, Katie, on my second time around the field so that took care of some of the anxiety.

I got my shirt but there was no where to change, Katie suggested I old-school it by putting on the shirt then taking off the other one from underneath. It's been years since I have had to do that (let's think, 10th grade gym class I believe). I put the shirt on and then struggled a little, probably looking like an idiot with my arms tucked in, and then I just gave up, popped my arms back out, and decided that I would wear both shirts. It was only 98 degrees out, no problem (p.s. I really wanted to say "no sweat" there but instead I've written it right afterwards so you know that it was on my mind).

The game moves pretty quickly, I guess I didn't remember that from elementary school (either that or now that our arms are proportionate to our bodies we can actually catch the ball right away - easily/quickly getting three outs). A few innings passed before I was up to kick. I tried to follow all of the rules, kicking from behind the plate, eyeing the orange plate by first that I would have to touch first. Then the giant bouncy ball came towards me, I stepped back, then came forward and kicked it. I stood still (mistake) because I assumed that they would catch it right away (mistake) so when they didn't catch it right away I had to make a haul for it, I almost made it to the plate before they got me out (my speed must have increased because I ran up the hill at Foamhenge - pictures to come soon - not of me running, just from the adventure). The next time - I kicked and ran and took my chances, I made it to the base.

I finally figured out why a bunch of adults would sign up for a kickball league (aside from the obvious - it's awesome), it's a drinking league. I've never played on a sports team that drank cozy covered beers while waiting to kick. Katie and I brought our water bottles, and Katie offered to let me borrow a cozy, you know, so the children wouldn't see me drinking water.

All-in-all, it was a lot of fun. The whole team was very friendly; they cheered everyone on (even with bad kicks); and they thought I was funny (could have been the drinking?).

Oh - and we won! That of course was the best part. This morning I woke up with a sore kickball muscle (real life medical term there) which surprised me because I technically only kicked about 4 times. I'll be sure to do my stretches in the future - and once I am a bit more comfortable, I will take some photos.