... cannot be explained. It has to be grown naturally and organically, fostered in my case by memories of watching Saturday baseball narrated by Vin Scully or Jack Buck or even Tim MCarver; by recollections of summer evenings at the ballpark, watching my brother's games and falling in love with the snap of the ball in the glove, the crack of a bat, the cheers of the crowd, and the sun dropping behind the outfield fence. There are things that can't be taught about the game, only experienced.
Spent Saturday at my favorite place on the planet. I'm so ready for the season.
What it appears that I'm not ready for right now is OKC. Seven miles of training this week was all I could muster. Recovery from 3M took longer than I thought then allergies swooped in and kicked my azz. I'm revising the training plan to repeat last week's mileage & get back on track. I'm considering this a step-back week.
Balls. And not the good kind, with 108 stitches, either. Sigh.
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