Long camp was a grind. To say that I’ve never experienced
anything like it wouldn’t exactly be accurate, but it was its own monster. I’ve
been through four preseasons for a division one college basketball team, and
each was its own monster, as is 7s residency, especially when leading
up to the first tournament of the World Series. However, long camp was a
sort-of combination of each of these, with its own elements churned in.
Camp kicked off with Navy Seal training in Coronado, CA.
That would be a taste of what was in store for us during the month of
July. In the arid Chula Vista heat, we dug our spikes into the dirt and put our
noses to the rugby grindstone for four weeks. The long camp tested our fitness,
our strength, our mettle. The goal with these long camps and preseasons is to prepare
the body and mind for competition. To do this, you condition in extremes. You
push your boundaries far enough so that hopefully, no matter what comes up, in
competition you won’t meet them again, and if you do, you know how to push
further. Or at least that is the heroic ideal. The truth is, it's a hellish grueling process, with a healthy dose of fulfillment.
A typical day consisted of a gym session, a practice preview
(including film most days), a morning practice, a snack/lunch break and an
afternoon/evening practice. Sometimes there were three practice sessions,
sometimes no gym, sometimes only gym and one practice, sometimes a team bonding
event—it varied, but most of the time we had three sessions and some sort of
meeting and/or film. Usually, we were at the center for about 7ish hours, and
we trained 5-6 days a week.
We also lived with one another—not in one large house, but
in small groups divided among apartments. Of course, sharing space with others
comes with its own problems, but I believe it made long camp easier for me
(despite having to pick up behind Catie Benson…heart you Benny). For the
duration of long camp, I lived in the Tight 5 House (plus Perry). It was myself
and our courageous captain, Tiff, in one room, Benson and Kuno in another, and
Perry and Nick James in the third room.
I’ve given you the rundown of a typical training day. Our
days were much more than training. I still had my job, though I had cut my
hours a good deal. Others had jobs as well. Some had school work, and others
worked remotely. At one point, Nick James flew back home to fulfill coaching
obligations in the Lone Star State.
Most mornings I woke up early and did yoga while Tiff worked
in her section of our “office” in the living room. We had coffee and some great
chats (sometimes over Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence”…you know, “Hello
Darkness, my old friend”). Then off to breakfast. I sometimes stayed a while
longer, ate at home and had some mindfulness time. Then off to training, with
work afterward.
Side note: In addition to the team and staff, we had some family
join us along the way. Family and partners came to visit during the week of the
USA v. WPL match and continued to stop by. It was a welcome distraction to the rigorous
monotony of training. We also had Pete’s little girl, Penny, motivating us (she
liked the forwards best, because we fed her).
Usually, I’d come home from work around 9-9:30 and find a
house full, most playing cards. Mata would have a plate full of watermelon and
Tiff would be talking smack at the card table. Nick would occasionally break
from cards to pour a glass of sweet tea from one of those plastic gallon
pitchers, and Benson would be recording most of it on some sort of social media
outlet. At one point, during camp we drew up a family history. I’ll give you
guys my side of the family tree (apparently, I get around).
We’d usually have a day off on the weekend, and I’d set up
my work schedule so that I was off on our off day. Sometimes, we’d visit the
beach, and sometimes go to the farmer’s market, where we’d sample everything
and sweet talk the cheesecake guy into giving us a deal on mini cheesecakes.
And there were cookies. At one point along the way, I bought a poncho along
with my good buddy, Bulou.
That's the short of long camp, the jist, the all-in-all.
That may seem monotonous, but there were plenty of mini adventures, little shenanigans,
and lifelong memories (god I’m dripping with clichés). And when it was done, we’d
only get to do it over again in Ireland. What’s that saying, “when one door
closes, there’s a window open”…or “the door’s not locked”…or something.
Kidding. World Cup would be open door around the corner, and really guys, I don’t
know how I could ever fit that experience into a blog. We’ll see…
No comments:
Post a Comment