The feeling that back-to-normal life is falling over itself, flailing, failing to play catch-up.
It can only be Monday morning.
Aching limbs, tired eyes, a brain that buzzes with action, none of it relevant anymore…
Post tournament, of course. Who needs alcohol to feel like this?
Twitching index and middle fingers on my dominant hand and a half-curled fist on the other side.
There’s the giveaway that it’s ultimate as I ghost throwing actions. I’ve been working on my lefties, but only with the simpler backhand grip.
New friends to ‘add’, photos to look out for, far-away smiles with memories of victories or my jaw set, regretful, looking back on the nearly moments.
Plenty of friend requests to be sent as I’ve just finished my first Mixed (gender) season with a new club side and many highlights to look back on after winning six of our seven games over the weekend.
More than anything, the sense of digging deep, of working hard, of playing, fighting and cheering for each other and achieving something as a team is the one that stays with me…
And makes the Mondays that follow seem to lack that same spark. Still, I’ve been reminded why I love my favourite pastime, and that’s no bad thing.
[I’m sure you’re well aware that it’s not Monday morning as I publish this – my brain wasn’t functioning well enough to get this posted yesterday!]