My bathtub looks very much like a sandbox, the frozen corn that was for tomorrow night's dinner is resting sweetly upon my husband's leg that is sporting a goose egg, and I have taken my fair share of over the counter muscle relaxants, already feeling the premonitions of aches to come. It was a good night at beach volleyball.
I signed us all up for a beach volleyball team. I signed us up because I thought it is a good idea for us to get out and have some fun with friends. Beach volleyball allowed us to have fun with friends but also get some exercise. Traditionally my efforts at exercise don't always end so well. I tore muscles doing tai chi, you know old people's karate. You see the people close to 100 doing slow and graceful movements.. How in God's name do you injure yourself doing old people's karate? I wrecked my leg doing Zumba. A smart person would decide that maybe exercise is not for them, but not me (to be clear no one has ever approached me about joining MENSA).
I was told that it was a fun "beer league". To me this means that everyone's just out for a good time, skill is unimportant. My teammates/ friends and I were all hee hee hoo hooing it up, and then we saw our competition. Out walked a bunch of kids in slow motion looking like they could have been extras for Bay Watch (ok they weren't really in slow motion, I just said that for dramatic effect, but they were pretty fit). I was glad at that moment that I had restrained myself and gone against my original idea of getting us all matching team shirts. As they soundly thrashed us they kept calling out the score "22 -2", "Quit calling out the score, you're making us feel bad!" I shouted at one point. It was less effective because I was squealing and running away from the ball. It felt more like dodge-ball than volleyball (only on my part. My teammates all gave it their all). We got out butts kicked, but we actually had a lot of fun. We all looked forward to coming out again. That was week one!
The team all arrived game two. We had really enjoyed the first week, even though we had been handed our butts in a wicker basket. This week I could see the small flicker of a flame of determination. I vowed that I would make more contact with the volleyball, and run away less. Everyone seemed quite pleased with my vow although not believing me. We stood out on the sandy court waiting for our competition. Our competition were two ladies who sheepishly told us that the rest of their team had not shown up, could we just split up our team. We did. It was a blast! I still ran away from the ball more than anyone on the team would have liked for me to, but I also made contact a few times. I was improving! My husband performed feats of danger as he dove and flipped and put his old man's body into extreme peril. My poor senile husband has not yet figured out that he is no longer in his early twenties. I had been thoughtful and warned all of my teammates in advance that they should be aware that Christopher would push their faces into the sand if he thought he had to to get the ball. Christopher did his aerial dives into the sand. It was a good night. At one point I looked over at my children who had come to watch, they were playing with the other children who had come to watch their parents. Some of them were having what looked like a dance battle.
Right now Christopher and my old bodies are shouting at us, but that's o.k. The fact that our bodies are shouting at us means that we used them. My kids see their Mom and Dad having fun together, and they see us having fun getting excersise, it's all good. I'm really glad that I signed us up. I have no delusions of grandeur I named our team "Last Place". The Olympic Beach Volleyball team will never be seeking us out to play for Team Canada. We're out having fun and we're being great role models for our kids.