Retreat

I'm really excited.
Apparently the lake is beautiful.
Apparently its the best retreat among the churches.
Apparently the worship music is really good (not apparently, actually. I listened to some... its good.)
Apparently I don't hate myself so I can have patience to understand God.
Apparently I'm not an emotional freak so my heart won't be so hardened in every prayer.
Apparently I have friends now so we're going to grow together and have a good time.
All these expectations. Apparently they're still going to be fulfilled.

Big sidenote:
I love elite team. I have never met people who are so passionate about this sport and so restless about training to win. I have never made friends through a mingling of blood, sweat, and tears (mostly sweat). I have never soaked my clothing through twice and twice again in hours. I have never done really anything for more than 3 hours without wanting to rest, especially not in a gym where the only air conditioning in 96 degree weather comes from a big orange fan. I have never met a coach who was so encouraging and unmovable in his faith in us, despite our you know, feminism, and his ranking as #1 in the US and #47 in the world. I have never wanted to cry during a game or stumbled so unsteadily off the court, gasping for breath in a voice that is too high for my vocal range. I have never felt my legs become so powerful and I have never felt this close to flying. That sounds ridiculous because its just badminton, but that's what we call good footwork. Flying. I definitely have never felt my entire body turn to lead or the genuine hunger that makes me want to eat everything and never be full.

This was my wish two years ago. In some random street in Chicago, I told someone, "I want someone to train me really hard. I want to feel like I'm dying over and over, but I can't stop because my coach will push me until I collapse, but then I'll be REALLY REALLY GOOD and own people. Like those athletes, you know?" Of course I didn't think it would happen. I thought I'd just do amateur math and be a typical know-nothing socially defective girl who ran a lot but not very fast. Little did I know, I didn't even make math team that year and would in 14 long months, realize one of the greatest gifts God has bestowed on my sorry self.

I'm still not really really good. I'm not even really good. Or good, depending on your perspective. But sometimes, dripping puddles of sweat that would gross out any reasonable human being on every corner of the court while finishing 200 sets of footwork does something that makes me love being not that good anyway.