I love rugby. Rugby Union to be specific. I wasn’t, and still aren’t particularly good at it. I played from my mid teens to my mid twenties and then started playing again this year at the tender age of 49. In between I coached kids, both my boys. Again I wasn’t a good coach but I was enthusiastic. I seemed to be capable of coaching the secret art of scrummaging to people despite not being a prop nor having boys who played in the front rows. I am endlessly fascinated by the combination of speed and power. How subtle changes in angles of running or body positions can have dramatic effects on a collision, or avoid collisions altogether.
I can watch rugby for hours. Even poor games. I have frequently wandered down to watch local teams play. Just sitting on a grassy bank, with a couple of cans, enjoying the show. Unfortunately my subconscious holds beer and rugby in the same bracket. One of the biggest things I miss about living in the UK, in Wales, is the afternoon out with close friends watching international rugby games in a pub. The rain lashing outside. The beer flowing inside. Bonding over two teams smashing lumps out of each other.
And now the Rugby World Cup is in full swing in Japan. Virtually the same time zone. All games are on TV outside of my “work hours”. And I love it. I guess what I’m really trying to say here is that I’ve been drinking a lot of beer, too much. And I’ve put all the weight back on. And I’m a little ashamed of it.
If we ignore the weight gain for a moment the challenge is going from strength to strength, literally and metaphorically. I have ordered the heavier kettlebell. I’m just hoping that AusPost manage not to lose it (or drop it on their foot). I look forward to swinging this fresh beer belly off soon. But first we need to cheer Wales on to the final 😉