As I write this, I'm still riding the high from this past weekend's nude volleyball tournament. A good mix of Type 1 and Type 2 fun. Sleeping in a tent, dodging the rain, dealing with crowded bathrooms, joining yet another misfit team - who this year didn't win a single game. These were not my favorite parts; and there were moments where I found myself wondering if I should have just stayed home. But by the closing ceremonies Sunday evening, I had been pulled into the magic of it all, and I didn't want it to end. I'll definitely be back next year, and maybe seek some other opportunities in the interim (pending financial and weather-related considerations, in addition to scheduling).
After all, it's not often that I get to practice naked on a real court, let alone in a team setting, with other naked people. People who genuinely seem to like me - some of whom I've known for well over a decade now, but only get to see in this context. And I always enjoy playing volleyball, even when we don't win. I was mostly just frustrated not to be able to play up to my full potential. I've been practicing a lot, for what little opportunities that I have, and my skills have improved greatly since I started playing some 15 years ago. I won a trophy all the way back in 2016, when I was still a relative novice; I want to win one in a higher skill bracket, to reflect my growth - before age starts catching up with me.
With sincere apologies to the gentleman who asked me to dance at the masquerade ball (I've inevitably disappointed many men over the years, but I can't help my programming), the highlight of the weekend was hitting the ball around with two of the younger, female referees in between games. It would have made for a striking image (I'm sorry, but I can't help thinking like a photographer) - the two of them dressed and me fully naked, although it didn't feel the least bit unusual in the moment.
If that's the reward (fleeting though it was) for putting in the work to improve my skills (and thereby build my confidence), then it was worth every minute of exertion I've endured - to be able to participate in a meaningful interaction with somebody attractive, and not just stand on the sidelines. It's enough to keep me motivated to continue improving. I hate to sound like a cliche, but these forces are very powerful by design, and even I am not immune to them. Honestly, I'm just relieved I can hold my own against actual, trained volleyball players. Like that one time I joined a team of college girls on the beaches of Lake Michigan...
How dull life seems to me now, when you avoid the risks that lead to adventure. I just wish I hadn't spent so many years letting my fears get in the way of that. There's a certain cruelty in having to trade the vitality and resilience of your youth for the experience that brings wisdom and confidence. Life is short enough already, for its peak to be such a narrow band of years when the two divergent forces meet in the middle. And by then, it's too late to start building a foundation for anything substantial.
I've had a taste of the social cachet that's conferred to jocks in our culture, and I'm hungry for more! (That's something I never I thought I'd hear myself say). Even as, sadly, we're winding down to the end of summer, and heading in to that long period of the year when I essentially enter hibernation. Soon I'll be sitting at my computer day in and day out, managing my vast (and growing) photo library, while waiting for the weather to turn warm again. It's essential work, and the safety of not poking my head out into the world constantly is comforting. But I have increasingly begun to feel like I thrive best when I spend a lot of time outside being active. Yet every time I get into that zone, and face the realization that it can't be sustained indefinitely, I worry about the cost of losing momentum.
All good things may come to an end, but I'm determined that there be more good things to come, waiting just beyond the next horizon. But I can't just sit around waiting for them to happen, or they never will. I must remain vigilant. For I am the architect of my own fortune. Nobody else is going to do it for me.
