A Cleat to the Thigh and a Fire in My Soul 🔥🏉

October 4 marked something new for me, my very first rugby game.

It wasn’t an official match, just a friendly scrimmage, but for me, it meant everything. 💫

I’ve never in my life played rugby, nor do I know much about the game, but I was willing to get comfortable with the uncomfortable, and that made all the difference.

Walking onto that field, I felt like the new kid all over again. I didn’t know the rules, the plays, or even the right way to stand at first. But I showed up anyway. I listened, I asked questions, and I laughed at myself more than once. And somewhere between the confusion, the chaos, and the cheering, I found something familiar: that spark that comes when you do something purely for the experience, not for perfection.

It reminded me how growth really happens, not when we feel ready, but when we say yes before we have it all figured out. Rugby, for me, wasn’t just a game that day, it was a metaphor for life. You don’t have to know every rule to play with heart. You just have to show up, take the hit, get back up, and keep going.

It’s been years since I’ve played a team sport. The last time I felt that rush of energy, connection, and camaraderie was when I played water polo as a kid. There’s something about being part of a team where everyone has each other’s back, where effort matters more than perfection, and where strength shows up in more ways than one. 💪

The game itself was intense and thrilling. There was grass flying, knees hitting the dirt, shouts echoing across the field, and laughter in between the plays. 🌱 Every tackle, every sprint, every breath demanded focus, trust, and heart. I got stomped on my thigh by a cleat, tackled and got tackled, twisted my ankle, and walked away covered in bruises, and yet, I loved every second of it. 🩵 Those bruises are proof that I showed up, that I pushed myself, that I’m still growing.

At 33, I’ve joined a D3 women’s rugby club. The official season hasn’t even started yet, but already this experience has reminded me how much I love living life out loud. 🎯 There’s something raw and real about playing a sport that pushes you physically and mentally. It strips away the noise of everyday life and pulls you into the moment, one play, one tackle, one breath at a time.

What made the day even more special was having my kids there watching me. 🧒💖 I could hear their voices from the sideline, cheering me on, yelling “Go, Mom!” as I ran across the field. Seeing their faces light up when I got back up after a tough tackle meant more than any win. They’re watching not just what I do, but how I do it, how I show up, how I recover, how I rise. 🌻

Life has a way of testing your strength in unexpected ways. Between work, family, and everything in between, it’s easy to forget what fuels you. But lately, I’ve been learning that strength isn’t about perfection or control, it’s about presence. It’s about showing up, even when it’s uncomfortable, and finding joy in the effort. ✨

When I walked off that field, sweaty, sore, and smiling, I realized something simple but powerful: this is the kind of woman I want my kids to remember. Someone who tries, who gets back up, who finds her fire no matter what life throws her way. 🔥

That’s what I want my days to reflect: resilience, purpose, and courage. Because impossible is just an opinion. 💭

Maybe this chapter of my life is about rediscovering my strength, living boldly, and proving that you can accomplish anything you set your heart on. 💫

What’s something you’ve done lately that reminded you of your strength and the power to rise again? 🌷

— Geri