950 Miles In The Books: Day 2 Of Our Cross-Country Adventure

We went from traveling 100 miles on day one to about 900 on day two—started in Fincastle, blew right through Bristol and wound up about an hour outside of Kansas City, MO. Besides the driving, we were able to do some sightseeing in Nashville, and we got to try some St. Louis ribs, of which my mom remarked, “I believe yours are better, Merle” (the man does make some damned good ribs).

In Nashville, we saw the Ryman Theater (OG Grand Ole Opry), the Johnny Cash Museum, and had lunch while listening to live music on Broadway Street. Spending only two hours in a place only gives one a taste of its flavor. However, I’d say I quite like the vibe in Nashville—a juxtaposition of lively glitz and laid back southern comfort, with flashing signs advertising bars and music venues interlard with homemade candy shops, denim and boots stores, and ice cream parlors. If it were a person, it would be Conway Twitty, in his best embroidered, rhinestone pants suit singing “Hello Darlin’.”

We ate at a bar called Rippy’s. We were hungry, and it was the first place we stumbled upon that had live music. Had we walked a bit further down Broadway, we would’ve discovered that nearly every establishment on that street had live music—mostly covers of well-known country songs. The food was decent bar food and the singers good bar singers, though one of the fellas had a bit more spunk in his performance, which we all enjoyed. I also enjoyed the people watching, which included a middle-aged gentleman drinking beer and sketching other patrons, and then giving them his sketches.

With so many live performers on this one street alone, we all wondered how these establishments could afford to pay artists to play at all hours of the day. Well, it’s because they don’t really pay them, or they pay them minimally. All of these singers have tip buckets and they make their money when patrons toss in a few bucks—seemingly only a step up from street performers (which I happen to enjoy, so there is no judgement here). Of course, the patrons aren’t paying a cover to see the live music, so it only makes sense that one would pay the artist directly, and of course, being a “paid by tips” performer in Nashville, the place where country music lives and breathes, is pretty special.

So that was my two hours in Nashville…in a nutshell. Ha. The rest of the day mostly consisted of driving. We made a brief pit stop in St. Louis to get ribs, at Spare No Rib, which were “good but not great,” according to rib-expert Dawn Goolsby. Finding the place was no cake walk either, and at one point we found ourselves down a dead end alley, with the enforcer, Mrs. Goolsby, poised to get her pocketknife. I will say that despite the difficulty in hunting the place down and the ribs not being heaven in the form of pig bones, I liked it. They also served tacos, and their Chorizo taco was one of the best I’ve ever had. Their baked beans were pretty damned good as well.

Not wanting to spend a ton of money on a hotel in the city, we continued the drive, with the goal of making Kansas City, however fatigue got the best of us and we wound up stopping in a sort-of Midwest ghost town, about an hour from Kansas City, and staying at a Super 8 that, in the words of my free spirited, non-judgmental mother, “smelled like pee in some spots,” but had surprisingly clean rooms and amazingly comfy beds.

More to come of our adventures tomorrow!

Look Out Southwest Virginia, Here We Come: Day 1 Of My Cross-Country Road Trip

So, I have big news. I haven’t told a ton of people, but I am moving to Chula Vista. USA Rugby is starting a residency program for 15s players and I was one of the first five to be invited to that. Of course, I accepted the invite, and now I am moving my life to the west coast. After talking with friends who live or have lived in Chula, I decided that I’d like to have a car there, so I’ve convinced my mom and her husband, Merle to accompany me in trekking across the country.

Obviously this is a wonderful opportunity for me to improve my game and get in quality training with the women I play with on the National team—something that doesn’t happen a lot in the US. However, I am very close to my family, so moving ~2,800 miles away will be difficult. This cross-country journey will be a good chance to spend some quality time with my mom before I am no longer a few hours away. I thought I’d chronicle our trip in a few blogs, so that in years to come we could read them and activate our little nostalgic heart strings, and in case any of my friends and family were interested in our adventures.

We started our journey yesterday evening, leaving Buckingham, VA and traveling to Fincastle (near Roanoke) to spend the night with my aunt, Rhonda. We’ve done that trip about a hundred times. As always, it was a beautiful drive through the hills and mountains of Virginia, but there was nothing new to see or eventful that happened, with the exception of most of the boxes in my car toppling onto my mom when Merle made a fairly sharp left turn. Seems the most treacherous part of our journey has proven to be inside the car. To ensure mom’s survival, we’ve since strapped the boxes to the seat.

Since we made such good progress on the first day (~100 miles in the book, ~2,700 more to go!), my aunt Rhonda treated us to a delicious dinner—crab cakes, shrimp cocktail, pickled beets, sweet potato salad, corn on the cob, her family-famous broccoli casserole and a grilled peach with ricotta cheese and honey dessert. With such progress made, my uncle Bill, through his big grin remarked that we’d probably make Bristol, VA by today’s end and California by October.

While we didn’t make it out of Virginia on our first day, we got ourselves started, and I had a chance to visit with my aunt and uncle before there are 6 or 7 states between us. I also learned from Uncle Bill that genetic testing has revealed that Michael Phelps’ father is indeed a dolphin, and I picked up a wonderfully Southern phrase from Aunt Rhonda—“He/she sits too close to the biscuit.” All in all, a great first day.

Today, with a good night’s sleep under our belts, bellies full of bacon and fresh fruit, and well wishes from my awesome aunt and uncle, we set out again. Onward to Bristol!

Top 50 Approaching

I can hear the theme from Jaws. Top 50 is make-or-break. It will be the last hurrah for some, and for others, it will be the beginning of the next leg of the journey to the Final in '14.

Jeez, '14 is here. We've been using "Final in '14" for about four years now, and it has always seemed like a faraway land. A distant dream. However, it's here now. '14 is here and the World Cup will be soon.

When I take that into consideration--that phrase and how long we've been using it--I realize that whether the Top 50 camp is my last hurrah or another rock in the river I'm crossing, I have been a part of a great journey. That journey has seen the USA WNT change and it's seen me change. I suppose many people will measure its greatness and worth based on our performance at the World Cup, and those people would be justified for doing so. However, for those who have committed to the journey and have seen it change us, physically, mentally, emotionally, know that it has been a great journey. Even in its incomplete form, it has been great.

By no means does that mean we are content with it in its current state. We want to see our baby grow. We want to be in the Final in '14. We want to be the fittest, strongest, most cohesive and fluid rugby team in Paris, and of course anything less than that will be disappointing. But it won't be disheartening.

There are some verses from the Tao Te Ching I'm thinking about as I write this:

In the universe great acts are made up of small deeds.
The sage does not attempt anything very big,
And thus achieves greatness.

I believe these lines are the essence of what I'm trying to say about this team. The end is not our focus. I think that's why the World Cup still seems so far off. We are focused on the now--the things we can do today to make ourselves better rugby players and make our team better, and knowing we are a part of something great is enough for now. 

What Day Is It?

Seriously, what day is it? This morning, I asked my lovely girlfriend if she had gotten to work yet. She responded that it is Saturday. I think that spreading travel over two days is to blame for my lack of time awareness. If I have had to drive to an airport, fly to various cities, take trains around said cities, ferry into a different country and ride my 30-year-old ass on a big yellow school bus to a dormitory, then I should be forgiven for overlooking the fact that two days come between Friday and Monday.

Anyway, I suppose Day 2 (or Day 4, according to my estimations) of our venture into Canada has come to a close. We finally made it to Victoria, which is on Vancouver Island fyi (I may have told some people that we would be in Vancouver and I may have told others Victoria, but, in the words of my lovely girlfriend, “Meh, six of one…”). And tomorrow we have a full day of practice, gym and everything else rugby. But now it's time for sleep.

Keep On Keeping On

I'd like to talk a bit about being sidelined for a bit. Nobody likes being injured or hearing about injury, and most people don't like talking about it unless they're looking for a pity party. And really how much fun are pity parties? I mean the guests are either really drunk, trying to drown their sorrows or sad and teary-eyed. The food is horrible for you--buckets of ice cream, pounds of chocolate, enough fired food to clog miles of arteries--and you're expected to eat enough for three people and those people's dogs. The music sucks--full of sad songs, unrequited love songs, breakup songs, a lot of country--and you can't dance to it. What I'm saying is that I'm not looking for pity and I despise pity parties. 

Last weekend, I pulled a rhomboid muscle at camp. It sucked. In fact it sucked so much that I've already ranted once, over blog, about it (you can check that blog out here http://usarugby.org/womens-eagles-blog/item/sitting-out?category_id=451). I don't want to rehash that. If you want to read how I feel about being sidelined, check out that blog. 

Instead, I want to talk, now, about one of my teammates--someone who is very close to me. My boo, Hunter, tore her ACL back in November and has been sidelined since then. What's more is that she went into her surgery too soon (the swelling in her knee hadn't subsided and she had very, very limited range of motion), and so she had to get a second surgery to clear out scar tissue and fluid so that her recovery could progress. Now she's running. That's great news for her, because her recovery had come to a virtual standstill before the second surgery. Now she's running. Running. She's doing drills at rugby practice and she's back in the gym. 

Let's put this into perspective. All of November, December, January, and February she was out. At the end of February she had her second surgery, and about two weeks after that she was back in the gym (riding the bike, doing some leg press and getting her leg stronger). She was out for four months. In those four months, she had to watch her team play their final game at nationals, miss the NY 7s tournament, deal with the holidays, support me while I attended USA rugby camps, stand on the sidelines for the first few weeks of spring season practice, watch the Furies win ruggerfest and deal with a recovery that was hampered by complications. However, she has handled being sidelined with a resolute spirit and a adaptability akin to a chameleon. She was voted, by the Furies to be a co-captain and has enthusiastically taken on a leadership role without being able to demonstrate, on the pitch, why she deserves that role. That, my friends is tough, and it's a testament to how much her teammates respect her and how much effort, physically, mentally, emotionally and socially, she has put into her game and her team. 

Now I don't want this blog to turn into the Ballad of Hunter Griendling. However, I gained a new respect for her after I pulled my rhomboid and had to sit out for a couple of days (oh woe is me, right...I'm singing the blues about having to sit for a couple of days). I just wanted to give her a shout out--her and all of the competitors who find themselves sidelined, but keep on keeping on instead of getting DJ Cry Me A River to throw their pity party. 

Camp This Weekend

Camp, camp, camp...all day long. That's going to be my weekend. The WNT is holding two regional camps this weekend--one on the east coast and one on the west. The east coast camp will be held at James Madison University, which I am stoked about. The 2hr drive will be soooo much better than the 6-7hr drive to Penn State. However, while I'm basking in the convenience of camp being super close, there are some who have to fly in, and that really sucks, so I won't gloat.

Tomorrow starts a busy weekend, but as I said in an earlier blog, I am ready for the busy. In two days (well a little less than two days) we will have completed four practice sessions, two gym sessions, and several meetings. If all that rugby and working out isn't exciting enough, we also get to see some teammates (those flying in) we haven't seen in a while.

It should be a great weekend, and I get to kick off that greatness, by working until 10pm and then driving 2+ hours to JMU. Like I said, bring on the busy. Just bring it.

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.