“Ouch, ouch, ouch!” were the sounds that were coming out of my mouth as I limped back home from the station on Sunday night. The blisters on my feet were open and raw. But despite the pain, I was wearing a big smile on my face reminiscing the past weekend.
Tenero. I've heard a lot about that place, and now was finally the time I visited it. I did not expect its grounds to be so big that I'd consider it a sports village. That it would take a 10-minute walk just to get from our tents to the mensa, and another 10 minutes to the pool. That we would be surrounded by the youthful future of Swiss competitive sports training there. That we could peacefully lie down on the beach of Lago Maggiore in the short moments of rest between the sessions. And definitely not that it would be as extreme as it was.
As much as 12h of pool time got crammed into our two short days there (1 full day and 2 halves to be exact). Finishing training at 10 pm and getting up before 7 am the next day only added to the intensity. But we weren’t alone. As I had to remind myself, we were at this camp of our own free will, voluntarily and together. Together with other hockey players from Germany, France, the Netherlands and Switzerland. We were there to learn and improve our skills, which we undoubtedly all did. I gleaned from both torpedo-fast juniors and knowledgeable veterans, one of them being our own coach Rob, who had 35 years of experience and answers to all our questions. He made sure that we not only practiced our puck maneuvers and games, but also discussed theory and proper hockey equipment. It was a well-rounded approach.
In that short but packed to the brim weekend, we still found time to socialize and enjoy each other's company. Just as when people become united in the face of a shared enemy, so did we bond confronted by common pain and tiredness. All that at the cost of sleep, which we knew we would catch up on after anyway.
Waking up no longer in a tent of 20 but alone on Monday morning afterwards made me realize how much I missed the Tenero cohort. But the aching blisters from my fins reminded me that the next camp is only a year away, and that before then there will be plenty more opportunities to see my hockey family again.
