Traininq Week

this wildly embarrassing picture found its way
all over my high school year book
note: About to high tackle the shit out of that poor girl.
Not wearing rugby shorts

I have never been given the impression that I don't take rugby seriously enough before. Seriously. I had the nickname H.K. when I played in England (hard kore - with a k... too hard core to respect traditional English spelling norms). Out East, my team mates issued a disclaimer to rookies: "No, she isn't yelling because she's mad at you, it's just how she is. You'll learn to love it."



McGill rugby's training week is something else.

Well, first of all, training week is a misnomer. It's training "3 weeks." Practice every day for the next 3 weeks, save this Saturday, and the Saturday 3 weeks from now. 2 days off of rugby in the next 3 weeks. Each practice goes from about 6:45 - 9:30, but with the bus - because our practice field couldn't be located within the city of course - rugby has me occupied from 5:00-10:30. At which point I go home, shower, eat, and fall asleep.

I am on the fence about how I feel about this. At the end of practice I find myself grinning like an idiot, happy that I haven't embarrassed myself too badly. I am enjoying the practices and am learning a lot, and my fitness is not as negligible as it would have been any other time in my rugby past. But it is taking its toll on my body for sure. Read: my groin hurts. And I'm tired all the time.

And all this has culminated in a shameful lack of blog posts this week. And this cannot be forgiven.

But try.