A few weeks ago we had an absolutely ferocious game of soccer. Justin got hurt, Kyle got hurt, I stayed on the sidelines for at least half the game because I just couldn't take it out there. I thought it was because we had some particularly talented, fast, and powerful players out there but after last night's game I realized it's just that I am afraid.
Three months after spraining my ankle, it still aches most days, and I haven't put my Ace bandage away yet. Apparently I haven't recovered emotionally yet either. I didn't think it had affected me so much, but I used to be a lot more aggressive on the field. I was notorious for getting hit in the face with the ball and that only happened so much because I was always three feet away from someone taking a shot, standing in between them and the goal. Last night I guarded people as well as I could but if I thought I'd get hit or run over, I shied away. It was not a fun way to play! About fifteen minutes after we started, I didn't really want to be there at all.
I toughed it out because I knew that I love playing soccer. I was NOT experiencing that love, but I knew if I stopped in the middle of last night's game, that would really mean I wasn't going to play soccer anymore, and I didn't want to lose that. So I kept playing, although I had my eyes on the clock more than on the ball. At the end of the game I was actually surprised that I'd been able to tough it out for as long as I did. One minute at a time, I guess.
We'll see how I do next week.