Tonight was volleyball. It took me nearly 2 hours to get to the gym in the craziest rush-hour traffic I think I've ever experienced. It's typically a 35 minute drive without traffic. Nuts right?
And then I played volleyball.
I was (obviously) quite late. Not only had I missed our first game, they were ready to play the second game. One of my teammates popped her head into the change room to see if I'd be ready to play the second game. HELL YA! (As I rushed around like a mad woman to finish getting ready!)
We were playing quite tightly during the second game. I, having had no warm up time, was a little stiff and nervous to dive in, but dive in I did. Surprisingly my feet were fast and I was picking up balls that normally would escape me. And then I had my first service. FLOP. I totally mucked it up. (sigh)
But then, as a team we held them back; we keep killing our pick-ups and working together as a team. Before I knew it I was serving again. I paused. Breathed. And then silently told myself that I was one with the ball.
I served 8 killer serves to win the game!
DANG that felt good! Winning forced the match to a third deciding game. Our team captain put me into position where I had to serve first. Since ti worked last time I tried it again and thought to myself, "I am one with the ball." I served 5 great serves to give us a solid lead.
In the end we won our first match. And thought we lost our second match, we played very well and made them work for it! (Our losses were very close games!)
What a great evening for volleyball. We ran late. It definitely made up for the two hour drive.
Moments watching the post-rush-hour annoyance melt away in the spike of a ball.
Moments visualizing that "I am one with the ball".
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