As I have mentioned once or twice here on my blog, I used to play the beautiful game known as rugby. I started playing in grade nine, courtesy of my dad encouraging me to try out for the team against my mother’s wishes, and I am forever indebted to him for pushing me toward what would become one of the most important periods of my life. I was shocked I even made the team seeing as I had never played, and I’ll be honest in admitting that I didn’t really have a solid grasp of the game until towards the end of my first season.
I very much felt as though I had been catapulted into a lion’s den, but what better way to learn, right?
I tried out again in grade ten, made the team, and because I started to believe in myself and what I could be capable of, my confidence and skills improved. I was team captain and was awarded most valuable player in grade ten, and again in grade 12, and I then played for the Brantford Harlequins Rugby Football Club Under 18 women’s team.
It was and likely always will be a significant period in my life, and I am incredibly grateful I was introduced to the sport.
A few nights ago, I came across an old video of my high school rugby days. It slammed me right in the feels and gave me a feeling of sports nostalgia I imagine most athletes experience when they stop to think about and remember a game they once played. It lit a rugby fire under my ass and seriously prompted me to consider getting my cleats out again, and while I imagine I would likely die if I attempted to play the game of rugby after not playing for almost ten years, there really is only one way to find out.
ontheedgeofeverything 
