Inhale.

Exhale. Each breathe piercing cold, chilling every inch of my being. Standing in the downpour, I am in awe of my own shadow. I look around the field and acknowledge that I am in this moment. Completely winded from running an outdoor field, my shins throb and muscles beg for rest. My skin aches under the drenched pool of clothing draping from my frame. Whistle blows. Inhale. The ball returns to play, smacking against the exposed skin of my thigh. The burn is excruciating. Settle the ball! Exhale. I turn over to pass the man attacking. Inhale. The ball is hard as a rock against my numb foot. Open field... bam! Exhale. Even sharp kicks spin out of control, but placement hits right on target. I hustle and my feet take me no where.   The turf is too wet for traction, even for my pink cleats. Inhale. I stumble back to recover the gap at midfield. I bend to my knees to catch a break. Exhale. The rain drips into my eyes, races down the bridge of my nose. The ball pummels back a few feet ahead of my stance. I rise to run. Inhale.

In the cold rain,

Beth