Actually, no, this isn't a really in-depth posting about life pain and God's grace and stuff. It's the painful memoirs of Dorinda's muscles after soccer game.
You see, I don't play soccer. Never have. Still don't. I think the last time I kicked the round ball in anything that attempted to resemble the team activity known as a "soccer game" was three years ago. And running? I run a mile every two months or so. That's my current level of physical activity.
So Saturday evening's 2+ hours of soccer has left its mark on my muscles. Or rather in my muscles. All that lactic acid...
The first part of the evening consisted of trying to get open and running after the ball - supposedly playing some postition called "forward." After running completely out of breath, I switched over to defend. I made one really good block -- DannyP kicked the soccer ball full force into the goal -- except I was in the way. Ooph! There went my wind again.
So despite my lack of experience, it was fun. I shared with my team at one point, "It's a lesson in grace. You guys are really (really!) good. But you share so much grace with me, I'm not afraid to play soccer with you. Thanks. It means a lot. You're an example of God's grace."
And Julian even tried to teach me the basics of being a goalie. You'd be proud of me, cduskin!