It May Have Been a Mistake

Yesterday I curled for the first time in almost three years. Nothing meant against my curling brethren, but it's easy to quit curling. Just don't go into a curling club. The game loses its grip on you; if you ain't there, you ain't thinking about it.

So I must say in all honestly that I didn't miss it. Until I walked into the Detroit Curling Club and saw so many old friends. Until I walked out onto the ice and threw my first stone since March 2020. It was a corner guard that my sweepers overswept and drug into the rings, but no matter. I was curling again.

I threw first, then went into the house to call the game. I was well pleased to find all the old strategy still at the front of my mind. I found I could still call line. Don't worry if you have no idea what I mean by any of this curling jargon. Suffice it to say it was like riding a bike, I felt that comfortable. 

Now I'm planning to curl more this season, and hang out again with so many old friends. Curling is back in my blood. I'm ready to play again. And I'm not as sore as I thought I would be today, although walking down the steps this morning was excruciating. Curling makes you use leg muscles you don't ordinarily stress. But you pay the price, right?