Asking myself why I do this…

Ever look at yourself, your hobbies, your job, and think, “what the hell am I doing”? I’m having one of those weeks.
We have been booked for catering every single day. Which means we need two people out catering, and two people working the morning rush at the shop. Since we have so few employees the results are a full week of open to close shifts for Dan and I.
Combined with the Spring Roll tournament in Ft. Wayne this Saturday, that means my life right now is nothing but work and derby. Up at 3am to load the trailer and get catering stuff ready. Bake, brew coffee, etc. Either go with Dan to cater or run the shop. If it’s a practice day, leave Dan at the shop at 5pm, go home, change, straight to derby until 9pm. Get home at 9:45 or so, wash all the catering towels and tablecloths, take a shower, eat dinner, get in bed around midnight. Repeat. All. Week. Long. Throw in the total random incidents at the shop (Had to bounce our resident eccentric from the shop. Sure, every coffee shop needs their resident eccentric, but ours started pooing in inappropriate places. Proof of the fact that I’m too nice for my own good, I let it happen no less than 5 times before I finally, nicely, let it be known she could not come in here anymore)
I should be absolutely miserable at practice. I’m tired, haven’t slept, my body is so incredibly sore from how hard we’ve been pushing and practicing for this (not to mention the fact that I’m squeezing in any spare seconds I can to run, lift weights, or even just do push ups in my office), my body is literally a mass of bruises. I can’t sleep on my right side at the moment due to the amazing amount of bruises on that hip.
Everything that isn’t work this week, is derby. No time to play with the horses, no time to sit and hang out and knit or work on spinning yarn, nothing but derby, derby, derby, every spare second of every single day.
But instead of being miserable, I found myself smiling last night. I spent no less than two hours in scrimmages and drills. I was not rotated out a single time. So every single jam, 2 minutes at a time, I was in the pack, hitting, getting hit, falling, getting back up, getting hit again, opening holes, working plays… I should have been bitching and hating life! It kind of surprised me, in this abstract way, to realize I had a GIANT smile on my face. Even when I left practice, dragging my bag, gingerly poking a bruise to see if it was knotted underneath, getting home and taking a shower, inspecting a brand new bruise on my back, another on my shin, one more developing on the top of my foot… and still I’m smiling!
This week has pushed my endurance with derby. These open to close shifts, then we’ll have a tournament Saturday, with our first game being at 8AM(!!!), but I’m realizing that I’m still loving every second of this.
Logically, I should quit. I have no time. I MISS free time. I miss it so very much! And sleep. Oh god do I miss sleep! But I just can’t imagine it. I can’t bear the thought of seeing a game and not being down there, getting new bruises, working new plays, sweating with some of the most amazing women I’ll ever meet…
Monday, when we have a big meeting, and announce whose staying next season and whose going, I know that despite swearing up and down that this year was it for me, I’m coming back. It’s not the smart decision, or probably even the right decision to make. But I just don’t know any other one I can make. I have never, ever, loved a sport like this one. This sport is greater than me, greater than my team, greater than any one girl or one single group. It’s a collective of DIY punk ethos that decided, “I don’t fit in anywhere, let me make my own niche in the world” and slowly the world has started accepting derby. But no matter how big it gets, there’s still a girl, seeing it for the first time, who never thought she would do anything like this, ordering skates. Taking laps around her driveway. Trying to read and understand the breakdown of a crossover, or a t-stop, who will someday step out in her first bout, and perform that perfect block, or that perfect jam, that helps her team, and makes her heart swell, and in the stands, there will be a girl, seeing it for the first time, who never thought she would do anything like this…
Could you give something like that up if you were me?