Today was one of the more exciting days, though since my return to Paris on Saturday, that isn’t saying much. I was up early to sample the foul stench of the metro on the commute into Paris – Chatelet Les Halles has to be the foulest smelling, in case you were wondering. I ended up at the bank where I jabbered away in French until the nice chap said, “you can speak English if it’s easier, mate”, straight out of Birmingham. Turns out he’s a rugby player too, though only played half a match. He plays for a club I had come across coincidentally the other day and done some research into: The British Rugby Club of Paris. He then invited me to their pub crawl of the Scottish pubs in Paris on Saturday night.
I then headed to the Sorbonne to register for my new course, comprising some language tuition each day as well as lectures on French ‘civilisation’, history, literature and the ahhts (arts). The location is impressive, right next to the Pantheon, and I’m looking forward to filling my mornings up again.
Something I haven’t mentioned is a dodgy wrist I’ve been harbouring for a couple of months. Nothing major, never going to stop me playing, but an irritant nonetheless. I’ve had a couple of scans and next week I’m to get a small injection into it which should get rid of something...it gives me the willies so I’m keen not to think about it. I suppose with training upon training little things like this can build up and it’ll be a relief to get rid of it.
I don’t want to keep going on about injuries but...no, I’ll stop there. My soreness and endless physio appointments do not make good reading. Got me thinking: professional rugby players aren’t necessarily the best, they’re just the most resilient and driven people – the ones who have made it to the top by getting injured less and managing to get through the boredom, not always the best rugby players on the pitch. The route to the top is probably strewn with outstanding players who either couldn’t hack being a pro – doesn’t make them a worse rugby player – or didn’t fancy it. This is not a defence of myself...yet... At the moment, after a tough period of training, I’m feeling aches a lot and my ‘body confidence’ is feeling low, a term normally used by counsellors to teenage girls.
Sometimes you go to the bench press, do it a bit, feel a pec, try to massage it into action. But no, neither body or mind is having it. You can get up and walk around, do a pull up as you walk by to try and inspire yourself into the right mood. You can even go to the changing room, stuff your hand in your bag and pull out a handful of Bonne Maman mini muffins and stuff them in your face in a vain hope that they'll lift you to the mindset needed. But no, a certain type of machine can probably do it but I can’t yet. I simply could not be bothered to lift weights today. So I consoled myself with the fact that I did it on Monday and Wednesday and just went home. Undoubtedly feeling much the better for it!
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