25 : all the roads you took came back to me

I'm not a great one for knowing where the line between vitally important and sentimental crosses. I don't know if it does. I have a folder which holds all of the things that I can't afford to lose; My coaching certificates, the qualifications that I've picked up at some point or another, a couple of race numbers - and these cards that my juniors occasionally give to me, out of the blue.

I know a lot of people who coach, and we all have different reasons. Some are good, a some are not so good, some are the shades of grey.
And then there are those of us who do it because we're selfish. We do it for every time that a kid's eyes light up when they get a shuttle over the net, and the smiles and laughs that we get in return. It's for the kids who push themselves because they love the sport so desperately. It's for the kids who are as hooked as we are. It's a chance to pass on a rush that is unlike any other, and it's for the excitement, the simplicity. The spills, the stiffness, the aches that all say "Good work."