Life Is A Sport

I played a few sports in college: track and field, did some cheerleading… but for this example… let’s go with football. Let’s say you were drafted to a team that wasn’t your first pick: you don’t like the players, you despise the way they play the game, you even think the quarterback is full of crap, that the quarterback is a pain in the ass that you don’t owe a damn thing to.

But, its your team… you don’t quit.

You don’t talk to the press, you don’t bitch to the coach, you just go out there every Sunday and you make the blocks, and you take the hits, and you play to win.

You show up

You suit up

And you play

...because its your freaking team.

I've been in a place lately where I feel like I can't breathe... and no, I don't have a cold, nor do I need any Afrin.

It's just a place... a place that we all fall into from time to time... a place where everyday is the same... and your life (even though it is in Africa) feels – well… redundant, tedious, uninteresting, droning.

A good basketball game can have us all on the edge of our seats. Games are all about the glory, the pain, and the play by play.

And then, there are the solitary games, the games we play all by ourselves. The social games... the mind games. We use them to pass the time, to make life more interesting, to distract us from what’s really going on.

There are those of us who love to play games, any game.

And there are those of us who love it… a little too much. Life is not a spectator sport. Win, lose, or draw – the game is in progress, whether we want it to be of not.

So go ahead: argue with the refs, change the rules, cheat a little, take a break, and tend to your wounds.

But play, play hard, play fast, play loose and free. Play as if there’s no tomorrow.

And speaking of tomorrow... tomorrow, I'm going to start to breathe again.