So it's time that I told you about the name of my blog, Running Toward the Ball. The phrase is from lacrosse, or at least I heard it at summer camp during lacrosse games (actually, during practice when the counselors were yelling at us). Don't get the idea that I was a lacrosse star. I was probably, quite happily, on the B team -- which they delicately called "Silver," the A team been "Gold." I guess that's the first stopping point in this memory -- I was very contented at that time to do my best. I wasn't resentful or jealous, but always working to be as good as I could be. I know that sounds pretty girl-scout like, but it was probably one of the most centered and happy times of my life.
Lacrosse was a somewhat intimidating sport, looking back. In field hockey, the ball was mostly on the ground and all you had to do was be a good runner, chase after it, and hit once in while. It seemed smart to maintain an equal distance from the girl with the ball as you ran up the field or even give more of a wide berth; the girls would whack the ball in huge diagonals and of course I'd go sprinting after it.
I tried the same strategy in lacrosse, but got reminded not to run awy from the person with the ball, to run toward her. That seemed a little counter-intuitive to me, especially with all those sticks waving in the air.
Through the years the phrase has stuck with me and I've adapted it to mean moving toward a goal. I know that seems like the obvious direction, but at times in my life I've been, if not a self-handicapper, then at least not goal-oriented in a clear path, meaning, I'd let myself meander onto more interesting paths, or be a rebel rouser and somehow protest the clear and accessible path (especially those with rules and authority figures). I'm working on "being there" for myself in a more nurturing and rational way -- and not just once in a while.
Of course, getting older, the stakes become higher. Seeing and running toward are more important than ever.
