Soccer actually taught me life lessons

It started in second grade. 

Actually, looking back at old home movies and photos, I think it may have started sooner. 

But, in my mind, it all started in second grade.  We had just moved to a new town. My parents signed me up for soccer for the first time.  I made my first friend in town at our first practice.  She was the coach's daughter. 

Turned out I was pretty good at it.  

The coach also coached the basketball team that his daughter played on.  I signed up for that in the fall.  And softball in the spring.  Although it was probably tee ball at that age.  And, if home movies are any indication, I may have actually played tee ball before. 

But no matter.  My love of sports started on that August (or maybe September) day, at the end of the first summer in what is now my hometown. 

And it stayed with me for a while.  I played soccer and softball and basketball almost year-round through seventh grade.  

I had knee surgery on each knee less than a year apart because of soccer injuries.  This effectively ended my basketball career, because basketball in seventh grade and basketball in ninth grade are entirely different games. 

I was on the varsity soccer and softball teams in high school.  I definitely was not the best player, but I had fun and was never afraid to get dirty in the name of a good play.  Hell, I was even named defensive player of the year of our softball team my senior year.  As centerfielder, I apparently never made an error.  That was news to me.  (I think we won one game that year, so this is definitely not a humble brag.  We were bad.  I definitely wasn't even the best of the bad.)

My last softball game of senior year was in mid-May, right after I turned 18.  I remember because I went to the mall and got my ears pierced for a third and fourth time after the game ended.  On my own.  Without a parent's signature.  

I didn't smoke, so getting something pierced (or getting a tattoo, which probably would have gotten me kicked out of the house) and buying lotto tickets were the only real ways to mark this milestone. 

That softball game was the last time I ever played on an organized sports team.

I would love to play organized sports again. It's so fun and such a great experience.  But, life gets in the way.  Work and a dog and the fact that I'm an old lady and go to bed by 10 p.m. make it difficult to commit the time. 

Sure, I know it's possible to do.  I have friends that play on softball leagues.  I even have a friend that plays in a dodge ball league. 

But, at this point, it's not in the cards for me.  That doesn't mean that I can't dream and I can't reminisce.

I don't look back on all of those years of playing sports as the glory days.  Hopefully I'll accomplish a lot more in my life than almost making it to the state championship a few years in a row (emphasis on almost). Heck, I don't even look back on those days all that often. 

But when I do, I now realize that what I thought were just a fun time growing up actually helped teach me some great life lessons, in a ways that were approachable and understandable to adolescent and teen me. 

I learned to take a hit and keep going, both literally and figuratively.  I learned to want to win.  And that it's not the end of the world when you don't. 

I learned that just because you're on the same team as someone doesn't mean that you'll necessarily be friends or even get along.  But that it makes life a lot easier if you're cordial to each other. 

I learned that rest is just as important as activity.  No matter how much you don't want to use crutches any more or how much you hate having to sit in the library while everyone else is playing no-holds-barred-two-ball-soccer in gym class. 

I won't say that I learned the value of teamwork, because I find that to be incredibly cliche.  And also, I'm not sure that it's entirely true.  Sure, I can work with someone to get the job done, but isn't everyone always looking out for themselves?

You know what I didn't learn?  

I didn't learn the value of exercise.  

I learned the value of moving.  Being active.  Training in a way that allowed you to be the best you could at the sport that you were playing, not just slaving away on an elliptical trainer to meet a certain time or calorie goal.  At the time, that training was for soccer and softball and basketball.  

But now, I suppose that training is for life.  For groceries and little cousins and commutes and dogs that want to be walked.

I also didn't learn to diet.  

I learned that you needed to fuel your body in a way that would help you accomplish your goal.  As a teenager, that meant Gatorade and candy bars and eating a ridiculous amount of snacks in math class (and also sometimes taking naps in that class - don't judge). 

Now, that means eating real foods and cooking for myself as much as possible.  And not depriving myself. I still love a good candy bar once in a while.

And, I didn't learn that you could only exercise in the privacy of your own home, or in a gym that you paid a ludicrous amount of money for.  I learned that you can move your body wherever you are, and use objects in many different ways to help you train.  

And that being outside is better than being inside.  Even if it's freezing in November and you're sitting on the sidelines.  As a kid, practice was only held inside if it was raining or snowing or otherwise too dangerous to be outside for long periods of time.  And even then, practice was fun.  There were drills and sliding pads (I used to loooooove sliding in softball and slide tackling in soccer!) and fun games.

It's this one that I struggle with the most as an adult.  Getting outside of my routine and getting outside of the gym and mixing things up.  

Maybe it's time to rethink my approach to fitness.  Think instead of what young Megan did and recreate that.  

More quick drills and fewer longs slogs on cardio machines.  

More fresh air and less sweaty gym air.  

More fun and less tedium. 

More enjoyment.  Period.