San Diego grew on me quickly, like some sort of sea-salt chia pet. I've enjoyed the culture, the people, my new team (the Surfers), and the "vibe." And I've enjoyed my job. I'm not talking about my new job at the UFC Gym (but let me tell you, that place is badass). I'm referring to my job as a rugby player. I'm talking about waking up, every day, and going in to the Olympic Training Center and playing the sport I love.
Often, when we apply the label "job" to something, it loses its allure. I was a scholarship athlete in college, and basketball quickly became my "job." Young, slightly less self-aware, Sam grew burnt out quickly of the job of basketball. It was a lot of work, and fraught with hardships and the added stress of having to survive on my own for the first time in my life. Young Sam often bowed to the hardships.
As an older, wiser, more self-aware Sam, I see the beauty in what I do. Sure, sometimes I don't pay attention to it, like passing by the same rose bush every day and forgetting to stop and smell. But each day I go into work, I feel a slight twinge of an undercurrent of beauty and love, and some days I can't help but think, "Dude, this is your job." I look up at the Olympic emblem on the outside of the gym and think, "This is my job?!?!"Of course, there are still the hardships. I screw up something every day at practice. Rugby players don't get paid enough. I get sore and hurt. We get scolded for not filling out our daily Wellness Form. However, the older, wiser, more self-aware Sam doesn't bow. She looks into the wind and rain. Embraces the downpour and walks through the storm grateful for it and for the sunshine that peers through the dissipating clouds. I am grateful for my job. I love that I get to play the rugby all of the time with others who love the sport as much as I do.
Merry Christmas to all of the rugby players out there and to all of the people who love what they do. Merry Christmas to my family and my rugby family (especially the Kinsankeys).
