Following a good, solid week of me sitting in my own self-wallowing after my summer took a turn sustaining a couple of knee injuries, I received a call that managed to instantly change my perspective.  Having already bowed out from my ultimate team, taken a 4th week off from baseball, skipped out on a water-skiing opportunity, and making the official decision to cancel (or at least pause) my climbing membership, I answered a call I wasn’t expecting.

While I am no star athlete, I love the teams I’m a part of, the joy and physical feeling I get from being on the field, and, above all, the social elements of all aforementioned activities.  I do not keep my eyes peeled for scouts at my adult (read: 40 an older) Sunday morning 3-pitch games.  Aside from the stairs in my own home, I am not looking to free solo anything, and I’ve even gotten better at not laying out for the disc for fear I may not stand back up again.  Our bodies simply aren’t capable of the things that their invincible 20-year versions could handle, and wisdom has taught me to respect that.  No – aside from just feeling good measures of adrenaline from the exercise, the reasons I enjoy these activities comes back to the people I share them with, the personal achievements I feel at the end of a route, an inning, or a point, and the element of routine; that opportunity to say “see you next week, team.”

Most sports I play, whether they kick off in Summer, Winter or anywhere in between, also signify the season in which I get to reconnect with people I haven’t seen since finals of the year prior.  After playing and socializing with one another weekly or more over a four month stretch, we wrap up our last game of the season, pack up our gear one last time, and wish each other the best as we bid farewell for a solid 8-months until we get that one exciting email or post: ‘Registration is now open!’.  These teams, events and outings mean more to me than a win – they represent connections that I value more than anything.

So when I’m put out of a game due to injury for what looks like the entire season, at this age and stage of my life, my mind worries not just for this year, but for future years.  I’ve seen others around me ‘retire’ because of such things, and to think that I may no longer play on a team that I’ve been a part of for the past 15 years, really bums me out.  I’ve also been too stubborn in the past to admit when I need to make a decision, and have subsequently paid the price of just making things worse.  This is why I made the official decision to call this the summer of rest, and how ten minutes later, I was reminded of what matters most.

When my phone rang shortly after my text went out and I saw who was calling, I was at first taken aback – not because of who was calling, so much as the fact my phone was ringing in the first place.  We live in a world where people don’t actually speak to each other any more unless it’s in some abbreviated text format that I can’t keep up with, a .gif that summarizes our emotions, or a link to a post by someone neither of us knows, yet somehow manages to display the things we wish we could have just said ourselves.

‘Hello?’ – yes, with a question mark…butt dialing is still a thing.

‘Phil!!!!!’ – ok, so not a butt dial.  This call was made with purpose.

The conversation that followed, involving two friends who took the time to reach out, not in disappointment but of first: concern, followed closely by support, reminded me very quickly of the things I have to be grateful for.  They reminded me that we don’t need the climbing gym or the ultimate field in order to stay connected.  They offered solutions to keep us coming together in ways that don’t require the use of my silly old knee or al risk further injury (though I am sure yours truly will find a way to sprain something in even the most idle of activities).  Be it music, or creative projects in the workshop, they inspired me to seek other ways.  To open up my outlook.  A simple phone call and some caring words of encouragement from two friends I trust and have always been inspired by, gave my summer hope; not just in looking forward, but in recognizing what’s already come to pass.

I didn’t ‘miss out’ on water-skiing.  I got to watch and observe my kids and my wife from the best vantage point possible, as I spotted from the back of the boat while they weaved in and out of the wake on a perfect summer day.

I didn’t ‘miss out’ on ultimate for a year.  I got to enjoy Tuesday evenings in the summer with my kids; one on one time to take them to the park, play games in the backyard, or explore new areas through our geo-caching adventures; something I haven’t done since the days they were born.

I didn’t ‘miss out’ on baseball for the summer.  I am getting to spend Sundays with my family.

I haven’t ‘given up on climbing’.  I am taking a pause so that I can heal up and get back to that 5.11 that’s been staring me down, and in the meantime, I will find new ways to stay connected with those who are important to me.  There are trails to ride, forests to explore, things to build or restaurants in need of a patron.

For all the frsutratiosn that may still exist, there are far more joys that can counter them. There are no lost connections, there are simply different ways to achieve them, and, at least every once in a while, it’s not such a bad thing to pick up the phone.

Thank you, friends.  You know who you are.