Just woke up in my bed in my parents' house. It's raining steadily. Checked the weather forecast for Harrisburg: location of our game in 3 hours.
100% chance of precipitation. Great.
The mental preparation to take myself out into the muck kills me. Once I'm playing, once I've set that first squishy butt cheek into the goop, I am fine. But until that moment? The lead up and the certain misery? It makes me wish I played tennis.
But then I think of my mom, who pulled out the rain boots and Gortex, and think, "Hey! At least I'm not standing stationary watching muddy rain rugby. Playing is way more fun!"
Can't wait for the swampy car ride home afterward! Yahoooooey.
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