Two-A-Days Are Hard

Waxing poetic is nothing new for me.  If you dislike sentimental, look away now.

Two-a days are hard.  Even with a nap between practices, it is pushing self to the limit.  How do I find the best when eyes won't even focus?  I'm a little dizzy and want to throw up.  Is this worth it?  Is this doing any good?

You won't know until sometime during the season.

Fourth quarter, four point game, four minutes to play, ball on their 45.  Doesn't matter which side of the ball you're on.  Who has enough focus, even when their eyes can't, to make a play?  Who finds the best inside to shed a tackler or put someone on the ground?  Who sees just enough to recognize the formation?  Who notices the corner, talking trash early in the game, now leaning on his thigh pads?  He was all talk.  I put in the work and he is about to become toast.

Fast forward fifteen years.  At the end of a long shift at the hospital, a bad car accident victim arrives.  Just want to go home, I'm a little dizzy and want to throw up.  This person could die if I don't focus...now it is habit.

Last sales call of the day, and haven't sold a thing.  The guy in front of me says he doesn't want anything, but will see me anyway.  I'm a little dizzy and want to throw up.  Make a good presentation...now it is habit.

Just sat down after a long day, I'm a little dizzy and want to throw up.  Little man hops in the lap and knees my groin accidentally.  "Need a book, daddy."  Now it is habit.

And the circle of winning begins again.

So...am I off base?