When I met Wyatt, I knew he loved soccer. When I got to know Wyatt, I realized, he really loved soccer. That’s great. I love to see him get excited and I love watching him run around in his element.
But when I married Wyatt? I think that meant that I was automatically entering myself into the soccer club, too. I should have received an ” I heart soccer” shirt after making it back up the aisle at the wedding.
I’d never played soccer before I married Wyatt, unless you count this one time at recess when I landed square on my rear in the middle of the field. I’ve watched a lot of soccer. (Wyatt played, after all.) And I honestly and truly enjoy watching soccer. (Go Sporting KC!) But I’m terrible at playing soccer. Really.
And now? I play soccer every Thursday night with a bunch of guys (and 1 other girl!), most of whom I don’t even know their name. And they are all WAY better than me. And it’s cold out there. And anyone who knows me at all knows I don’t like the cold.
But it’s fine, because I usually have fun just running around trying to do more decent things than bad. I own soccer cleats now. And I am getting better. Very slowly, but still. Better is good, right?
So, here I am, all bundled up and waiting to go play a sport that I’m terrible at, in the cold with my husband.
Is that love?
I think so.