I used to have a fundamental fear of balls. Yesterday, in line with a personal goal to learn as many new things for Q1 (it was Tish, college kabarkada, who gave me the idea of looking at this year as the year, and how Q1 was supposed to be about the self: getting to know your body, your limitations, but more so your capabilities, pampering yourself, etc.), I played futsal for the very first time. Futsal is indoor soccer, played by 2 teams of 5. We played with officemates and friends of officemates and people who'd been at it for a year, and even if I got stupid leg cramps at the latter half, it was pretty fun.
I would not call myself sporty, never in a million years, despite my broad shoulders (Stranger: Swimmer ka? Macky: Pakyu ka lampa ako.) and my overall manly demeanor. But there is something about sweating and running and using my body that challenges me; there's a whole other world in there, a unique language in the movements and choreography and the signals and the dance. I couldn't put the right words for it so all I could muster on the benches, talking to Big and Jers, was this: "Parang inaalay nila yung katawan nila para sa bola." Which didn't sound even remotely poetic, but it was as close as I could get to the truth on the field. And it was sexxxaaay.
(All that running must have flicked on some hormonal switch inside me as I could not stop talking hours after the game. Endorphins are better than drugs.)
Tomorrow naman, we run for the Ipo dam. Life is gooood.