Take me out to the ball game...

No, I mean, take me out OF the ball game....

Last night was my second game of slow-pitch softball on a league I've joined. It was gorgeous outside yesterday, until about 7:00--our game was at 7:15. I got there at about a quarter to 7 so that i could stretch, jog a bit, and get ready to play. By game time, it had gotten windy, cold, the sky turned into these nasty looking black clouds, and was starting to rain just a bit. We were up 6-3 or something close to that in the 3rd inning, and it was my second time up to bat. I was thrown a bunch of balls, and eventually was walked to first base. Pretty uneventful, right? That's what I thought too...

Then, Ali gets up to bat. We've got two outs, and Eric, my first base coach says "You're running on anything." Okay, cool, I can do that. So, Ali hits the ball, and I tear off running for second base. Steps one, two, and three are fine, but on step four, I am certain my life is going to end. Imagine taking both hands, sticking them into your thigh, and then pulling the muscle in opposite directions--that's pretty much what this felt like. My right leg hurt so bad that it was all I could do to walk back to the dug-out (we had an extra girl playing last night so I was rotating innings--I was sitting out), and got to the bench where I held my breath and rocked back and forth for several minutes occasionally gasping for breath, before the pain subsided a little.

Finally, innings are switching up, my team comes back, someone gets me some ice, but it's pretty apparent that I am going to be sitting out for the rest of the game.

Then, it gets better. It is my turn up to bat again, and if I don't bat they get an automatic out. So the idea is that I go, bat, get on base, and then we put in someone else to run for me. Uh huh, this is going to work really well--I'm thinking I'll just hit one out of the park, because then I can gimp around the bases, and it will take at least 15 minutes for me to get home. If you know me at all, you know my idea here is ridiculous. Anyway, I hobble out there, strike out, and hobble back into the dug out, bruised and humiliated...

The drive home was fine. As long as I drove cautiously and used only my heel to move my foot from pedal to pedal, I was fine. Any emergent stops, though, that required lifting my leg, were pretty much excruciating. And, to make things even better, it's 4 flights up stairs to make my way to my bed. I'd've sooner eaten nails than make that trek again.

After a night of ice packs and laying around, Ibuprofen, and sleep, I've woken up feeling sore, but much, much better. And, I better heal quickly and get back into shape, because friends, next week starts TRAVEL SEASON and I'll be documenting the best parts of my life on the road as the rookie! All you NE Iowans, look for me at a college fair near you next week!