Busy Busy

Spring season is upon us and I am looking forward to it--mostly because it's rugby, but partly because it's spring and I'm absolutely over this snow crap. This year spring season will bring a new challenge. Not only will I be playing with a different team, the DC Furies, but I will be training for a chance at making the World Cup roster for the Women's National Team. While I'm excited about my new team and the opportunity to compete in a World Cup, I know that my schedule is going to be BUSY. Actually, "busy" may not carry with it the scope of crazy I am expecting. Maybe "hectic" or "swamped" or just "crazy busy." 

However busy I may get, I feel like I am prepared for it. I have thought about my free time (more specifically, how to carve some out). I have considered my relationships and have talked with the people in my life, who are incredibly important to me, about my time commitments. Most of all, I know that I can only do my best and then trust in the natural processes of things. Things aren't so mysterious and unpredictable as we sometimes imagine. Good things tend to happen if we work--actually work--for them. Of course, there are things like obstacles, set-backs and stress, but these are part of the natural processes as well. We can only be prepared for them (that doesn't mean obsessively worry about them) and then address them when they appear. And sometimes the things we see as setbacks may turn out to be catalysts to our success. At least that's my take on things. So I say bring on the busy; bring on the difficult. And here's to a great spring season and a shot at a World Cup roster. 

Camp Closing and (Delayed) Return to "Real Life"

The USA WNT winter camp is officially done, however not all players and staff are done with their journeys home. Some had delayed flights, some had flights get cancelled, some got stuck in airports along the east coast, some stayed in a hotel last night watching Gator Boys and Finding Bigfoot, and at least one has to stay in Florida an extra three days. Though the trip home, for some, has been less than ideal, our journey this past week was one full of progress, intensity, camaraderie, and learning. 

Camp ended on a high note--with a match that demonstrated a high level of progress made and learning done since the initial scrimmage at the beginning of camp. Play in the second scrimmage was much cleaner and more intense than in the first, despite players spending three days, between the two scrimmages beating the crap out of each other. This was a testament to the malleability and excellent physical condition of the players. Though we, the players, were very pleased with the outcome of camp, we know we are only entering the trailhead on our journey up a mountain. 

We discussed our World Cup journey several times during camp and made plans to continue our progress and hold each other accountable during that journey (plans that we outlined on the lovely makeshift whiteboard you see in the picture). I feel really good about the foundation we've built and the steady footing everyone seems to have at this point. I also feel very fortunate to be a part of this program. We are already cogs in what has become a great machine, and we have the potential to be even greater. We have the potential to do things that some people try and fail to do, some people only dream of doing, and still the great majority are afraid to even think about doing--we have the potential to be the best at something--and I'm excited about that.

Who Is This Guy...

...and why does the albino tiger want to maul him?

Answer: This guy is Mike Ilitch, owner of the Detroit Tigers and he is standing (or has had his standing image superimposed) in front of Comerica Park, the Tigers stadium.

I know, it looks like your high school biology teacher is standing in front of one of those horribly awesome 90s school photo backgrounds. This is the poster that welcomes us in the lobby of our dormitory here at Tigertown. Sometimes Ole Mike and his wispy auburn locks (google "Mike Ilitch hair" if you want a good chortle) startles me or some of my rugby comrades after a long day of throttling each other. The image is awfully lifelike and Mikey's smile is a little creepy--like the creepy smile of that gilded, greasy guy at the bar who just wants to buy you a "cocktail."

Okay, enough about Mike Ilitch and his hair. Today, I rose from the rigidly unforgiving mattress of a Tigertown bunk bed a little sorer than I was yesterday, a little stiffer, a little more tired, and a little less anxious to go throw my body at someone. Of course, you soon realize that everyone is just as sore, stiff and tired as you are, and, if you've been in this racket long enough, you embrace the hurt, maybe laugh at it a little, crank your engine, and continue to chug along.

My own personal soreness is a little different this time around. I'm not really accustomed to having to figure out the logistical setup that hurts least when pulling my hair into a ponytail. I have been informed that this is a "front row problem," and I will get used to it. The upper-body aches that come with the "front row territory" are new to me. I would say that as a former back, I have a greater appreciation for what goes on in a scrum and with the forwards in general since my enlistment as a hooker, but since I'm a forward and am now in the middle of the scrum, that would be kind-of like congratulating myself. I'm sure that any tight five players who are reading this now are smiling to themselves in a bit of smug satisfaction (maybe there's a little schadenfreude at play) at hearing a former back acknowledge the physicality of and pains involved in their jobs, and I am glad to give them that, because they (we) deserve a lot of appreciation.

Besides the stiffness and general rugby aches, I feel good. Camp feels good. We're getting better at our system and players are becoming more comfortable in their respective roles. Today has been less physically demanding than the first two days, and I think the players are grateful for that, since the first two days were like a triathlon of boxing, a strongman competition, and the running of the bulls (although if a triathlon of that sort existed, I think rugby still may beat it in intensity). Also, we play tomorrow, so it's good to have a bit of lighter day.

Speaking of playing, I am very excited about getting back on the pitch with all that I've learned this week I want to put all of that mental focus and effort to use. This has been one of the most intense WNT camps I've attended, and I'm excited to see how we've progressed over the few days we've been here.

Return to Tigertown

Two years ago, the US Women's National Rugby Team attended a camp in Lakeland, Florida at a place called Tigertown. During our time here, I concocted several fictitious tales describing the founding of Tigertown, how Cecil Fielder may or may not be the mayor, and the possibility of it being a black hole. Those tales, being fictitious but certainly creative and creatively detailed, caused some confusion. Now that we're back in Lakeland, I'd like to clear up the confusion. Tigertown was not founded by some guy named Tigerson, Cecil Fielder is not the mayor, and it is not a black hole, as evident from our escape from it back in 2012. It turns out that it is just a training facility. However, I believe that something more covert, and perhaps a bit nefarious, than training is happening here--something to do with the abundance of styrofoam and the omnipresence of cafeteria workers (one of the ladies appeared in one of our meeting rooms talking about how the air conditioner may freeze up).

Styrofoam and nefarious plots aside, our return to Tigertown has been productive. It's Day 2 and already we have scrimmaged, done fitness testing, had two gym sessions, and have beaten and battered each other in three field sessions. We've also participated in a cognitive testing study, worked on being nutrition ninjas, and reviewed past beatings in film sessions. Seems like a lot when it's written down. Well, I'll tell you, it is a lot. It feels, as it does at most of the WNT camps and events, like we have been here for eons (maybe not eons, but more than two days). These camps and events demand so much physical effort and mental focus that you, the player, feel like you've invested days worth of "real life" effort in a matter of hours. When I say "real life" effort, I mean the effort it takes to get through a typical work/school day during a typical week at home. I don't mean to imply that this isn't "real life."

In the past, these events and camps have seemed so surreal--in the way time passes, the very high concentration of freaks in one location, the access to resources (like a rugby pitch in your back yard, nutritionists, doctors, trainers, awesome managers who do your laundry, etc), the support of people like yourself, the absence of work responsibilities, etc. However, this has become part of my life, and I think in that realization there comes a greater sense of belonging to this clan of freaks, for whom this is also a part of life. And this is one of the great parts of life. It's hard--incredibly hard at times--but like Tom Hanks says, in A League of Their Own, "The hard is what makes it great."

Anyway, enough of my philosophical ramblings. We have another field session and another gym session this afternoon, so it's time to get into rugby mode (I think I need a name for my alter-rugby-ego...suggestions?).  

Bed-buddies Reunite!

This weekend I will have the pleasure of playing with the Mighty Rucks in the NY 7s tournament, though I'm not sure how pleasurable the sub-freezing NY weather will be. "Who are the Mighty Rucks?" you ask. That's like asking, "Who are the Jungle Hugs?" Yeah, you may not know who they are either but that's what it's like. Both are sports teams, well known in their local niche, that do big things--that win stuff. So if you don't know...

Anyway, the big story isn't the rugby, although we will be competing in the premier division, which means we have the chance to rail some Canadian and Australian chicks, which is exciting. The big story is that I will be reunited with my MARFU bed-buddy, Eli! And Grover. This can only mean good things, so Canadian and Australian chicks beware. 

Traded...Go Stars!

The Uncle Sam sorting hat traded me today to the Stars team. I’m not going to fib or put on airs, I was a bit disappointed at first…at first. This week, I’ve formed some bonds with my Stripes teammates, and it was a little blow to my emotional self to have to switch teams. However, in the grand scheme of USA Rugby, we are all teammates, and it didn’t take long for my emotional self to embrace the change. Actually, I like that I will get to play with the Stars. I’ll get to see how well I play with some other players and hopefully help the Stars avenge the last two games. Wouldn’t it be awesome to be one of like three players (two others were traded as well) to go 3-0 for the week?

On another note, today was a chill sort of day. We only practiced once and so had a lot of down time. The Stripes took that time to have a water balloon fight, while the Stars had a Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament. I lost in the second round to the Kug, who finished second behind Poker-Face-Megan Bonny (another Stripes transfer), who said of her victory, “I wasn’t trying to win.” Megan and I also wiped the floor with my VA buddy, Erica, and Penn State’s scrumhalf, Elena, in pool. In two games, I don’t think they made enough shots to win a single game.

The day is winding down now. I’m still on the Stripes side of the dorm and they’re preparing for the match by watching Top Gun and Dirty Dancing (side note: Nugget and I did the Dirty Dancing lift earlier this morning). Nobody puts Baby in the corner.

Wait...What Day Is It...

Day 5…6…er something…is nearing a close. What day is it anyway? Thursday? I’m in a Rugby Time Warp right now. It feels like we’ve been at camp for weeks now. Days bleed into days and time is measured in weigh ins, feedings, sessions, meetings, ice baths. I’ve taken my heart rate five times now, weighed in 14, had three ice baths, and have consumed enough calories for two or three people (depending on their size and disposition toward doughnuts). I hope this is what heaven is like…or hell (depending on the final destination of my hand basket).

I felt a little beat up today, which of course is inevitable after a match day. It’s a good feeling…or a horrible feeling, depending on your level of masochism. I think rugby players are all masochists to some extent and so relish in post-match pain, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. A seed must break its shell before a plant can grow.

Philosophical ramblings aside, the second match was a physical one. One that left me physically exhausted—I’m talking fatigue-delirium. I enjoyed every minute of it. I felt that I played one of the most active games I’ve ever played, and my teammates voted me forward of the game. That is an honor, not because it represents a personal triumph (we play for ourselves, of course, because we love the game and the person the game makes us), but because we play for our teammates. When we’re on the pitch we are committed to 14 other people. We strive and push ourselves to our breaking points for those people, and to have those people appreciate my effort has made my time here worth it, regardless of win-loss records, regardless of selections.

On a less serious note, a few things that have helped me prepare for the intense rugby here at camp have been the quotes on my Celestial Seasonings teas (the one I got before our match was, “On with the dance, let joy be unconfined,” and I kept thinking throughout play, “Let’s dance, baby.”), our strength and conditioning guy, Paul, saying that his goal was to help us be athletic and happy (what could be more simple and more awesome than being athletic and happy), and the sloth slaps I’ve been getting from Kmiecik (you don’t need to know what that is, just know that it helps).

That’s all for now. Check back in tomorrow for more of my insights (if you want to call them that) and updates.