I have always looked forward to Saturdays.
In the early, formative years the irony centered around the end of the school week and two glorious days of freedom. The irony being, of course, that what should have been the formative was actually the painfully rebellious and what should have been the adventurous and explorational, was the formative. I worked hard on the weekends, slept through arithmetic and geography.
In my teens, Saturdays were about baseball and the beach. By 15 girls and music were added to the mix.
By the time I was legal to purchase and consume, Saturn's days became more Saturn's nights. This created some problems. Sunday's, as an example, were s-l-o-w days and I became a master of the nap on couch, pretending to watch professional athletes play war games on TV. Heck, I even golfed for a while.
With the introduction of the adult responsibilities of a real job, even a career, a steady girl, soon to be wife, a mortgage, two cars and three horses, Saturday's became just another day to either make money or make hay. Usually both.
The career aspect saw a lot of Saturday's as travel days.
Later, we are into our 40's now, Saturdays became fun again. Softball tournaments and triathlon, biking and running, adventure travel. Weekends at the cabin in the woods with lovers of all things poetic.
Then came Husky football. What a Saturday: Preparations, packing lunches, ferrying across with a boat full of purple and gold, ready and rabid fans, The pre-game rituals, the contest itself, the lingering into Sunday afterglow. Please remember at this point that we saw some great Husky teams in the 80s and 90s, one of them, 1991 to be precise, a National Champion. But they were all fun. With the exception of the occasional loss to the Cougs in the Apple Cup. Heck we beat Oregon on a very regular basis.
Now my Saturday's are colored in a shade of gray. They still make my heart beat a little faster an add an imperceptible spring to step, and I try to fill each with challenge and value.
Now the highlight is often the morning's 90 minute spin session. We have a committed and enthusiastic core group that looks to these sessions much like a tailback looks for daylight. Much like a shortstop twisting a deuce, Like turning a passion from hobby to profession. Like a successful competition. Like a come-from-behind victory. Like a sunny, summer afternoon at the beach. Like a well deserved day of rest.
I will always like Saturdays best. It is best effort.
Especially when that 90 minutes is over.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment