Rugby Love

Yesterday I made it to my first Rugby practice of the season. Given my off-season training regimen of eating, drinking, and sitting, I felt pretty well prepared for a 2-hour rugby practice. Turns out I wasn't too far off, especially as I was a bit late and everyone else was tired by the time I got there, minimizing the effects of my non-in-shape-ness. So I stayed in the mix pretty well, got battered around and stepped on like a good prop should, and wound up having to wrap my wrist at work that night.

Today, I've been popping ibuprofen like M&M's, I'm stiff, sore, bruised, and painfully aware of the fact that I'm the oldest guy on the team. It's a very feel-alive sort of ache, though. Food tastes better (I've been starving all day), moving feels good ('cos it loosens up the joints so they don't hurt anymore), and I don't feel bad about drinking beer (gotta rehydrate, right?).

Yep, I'm definitely feeling the Rugby Love.