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Know when enough is enough.


On Saturday I attended the opening WVU football game, as is my resonsibility as a season ticket holder. The day was clear and comfortable; I didn't have to drive (for the first time in a long, long while); I had kettle korn money in my pocket; and I was ready to "bring on the Mountaineers. With that said, I still had to convince myself to get going. My face felt a little drawn (similar to the day I was dianosed with MS) and my dropped foot was demanding notice. I started worrying about walking the distance from the car to my assigned seat (roughly 3/4 of a mile). My anxiety grew when I realized how warm the temperature had become, forcing me to hold firmly to the arm of my husband and lean heavily on my cane.
Because our seats are in the south end-zone directly under the score board, I rarely leave my seat during the game since I am usually only good for one "climb". So, I had that to look forward to. Two hours with no bathroom break, which really wasn't such a big deal with the rising sweat-inducing temps.
By the time the end of the third quarter arrived, I was totally miserable, thirsty, and disgusted with the field performance.  I vowed to leave with six minutes left  on the clock, just so I could stumble my way back to the car and not make the others wait for me. It was rather discouraging to find them all lounging around any way. By this time, my mouth definitely feels palsy, the feeling has left my right hand, my drop-foot is no longer dropped, but dragging, and my dehydrated brain is foggy.
I just wasn't worth it. I don't care that season tickets are ridiculously expensive or that these Saturdays are quality time spent with my wonderful husband. I didn't pay for the tickets and the time and anxiety I spend before, during and after the game is anything but quality.
I enjoy football season and I am a devoted WVU alumni, but my new favorite game is an away game. This Saturday I plan to trek the distance to the garage to park in front of our big screen and enjoy the Mountaineers from my own comfy chair, near my own bathroom, beside my fridge full of cold beverages, and my own kitchen nearby for the occasional snack.
Yes, it will be a good day.
And I don't have to feel guilty about staying home on Game Day.
In fact, that guilt is a thing of the past. I attended Opening Day and, from the looks of things, this is going to be a LONG season for my beloved team. Thank goodness my husband, Mr. Die-Hard, understands and has released me from any commitment I have imposed upon myself. He has give me unspoken permission to be a couch-fan for the rest of the season. Thanks, Babe!
Let's go, Mountaineers!
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