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When I was a sophomore in college, I learned how to tackle for the first time. I had a feeling that I would like tackling people, but was surprised by the camaraderie and compassion that I felt at my first rugby practice. Rugby was a huge part of my college life. I played for Western three out of my four years at the university. I juggled the demands of school, work and the sport, and made sacrifices to show up to practice regularly.
Despite its positive impact, I stopped playing rugby after graduating. Even as adults, we crave the healthy activity and community associated with sports.
For two years following the revitalization of the Mussels, I went to practices now and again without committing to join the team. I reasoned it away with not having enough time. Despite my inability to commit, something kept me coming back.
At some point, I figured I would need the support that came along with the sport. That time came In the spring of when I dealt with my first major heartbreak: the earth-shattering, mind-numbing breakup that marked the end of my first serious relationship. Suddenly, I was left to piece together jagged fragments of myself, re-forming my identity. This task seemed daunting.
Through the tears, long talks with friends and sleepless nights, I had a moment of clarity. With my legs still wobbly, I got myself to rugby practice and was amazed to discover I was able to take my mind away from the breakup and focus on the sport for a couple of hours. Seeing my friends at practice brought me joy. Running around and playing a sport that we all loved made it even better. Every Tuesday and Thursday, I looked forward to rugby practice.