Sweet taste of sweat and pain

I went to watch my friend playing volleyball for the first time. Their team was just a group of friends who decided to join a charity tournament ( that was my brief understanding of the situation anyway, but don't hold me to it). I was sitting on the side on my own and all those sweet memories came back from high school. I did my fair share of volleyball, have a few years behind me. Practised weekly, was on the school team and we entered competitions in season.

Watching them made me think about the other girls, how strong they were, how hard we fought and how big part of my life it was back then. I remembered all those little things we did as a routine during the game, who was the best at what, what my strength was, and suddenly I wanted to get on the game. But then I was watching the game, and someone made a mistake. And all those memories of shame, pain and humiliation hit me at once. We were fighting hard, but it was never enough. We put all the sweat and time in every move, but we still got shouted at. You screwed up too many times on the game? Then you had to stand there and take the hits from the trainer. By the end of it, there was a red patch on your arms where the ball kept hitting. We threw ourselves on the floor so many times, that sometimes we just didn't want to get up.

I was watching them play and they were smiling, enjoying the game, celebrating every right move and just smiling over the mistakes. I used to go home and feel like I never want to touch the ball again, because I felt like I let down the team.

And still, I stood up after their game, walked to the corner and couldn't help but start hitting the ball to the wall. It felt just right, the sweet taste of sweat and pain was just like I remembered.