I miss you.
I really, really do. Watching the Women's World Cup does nothing but pour salt in the open wound that is my fucked up knee and the impending surgery. (Which is this coming Friday...I'm a bit skeered...what if it's more that just "gnarly stuff" like the doc thinks?)
I talk about you with Babe. I coached you for Boo. I am still friends with all of your devotees on Facebook. But, sometimes it's just too hard.
I miss knocking some guy over because he thinks that he's "the man"...and there's no way he could get beat by "just a girl". I miss the team camradarie...post-game beers and talking shit about the other team. I miss the feeling of making a huge cross, from back to front field...feeling the power that my legs could bring.
I have to admit, I've been cheating on you a bit. At first it was with Turbo Fire. It was something that I could do at school and at most, it only took an hour. Then, after the knee debacle, I re-discovered mountain biking and swimming. While they give me some satisfaction, it's not like the rough-and-tumble, sweat-drenched loving you would give me several days a week.
But.
<sigh>
You're no good for me...at least right now. You need to remember that I've put my body through hell for you, and I need to do what I can to get healthy so perhaps...someday...we can be together again.
Much love and devotion,
Me
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