Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still buzzing from it. So, I wake up in Carlisle, right? The sun’s barely up, and I’m already thinking about my clients. You know, the usual sports psychology stuff. Gotta get in the zone. But then, bam! My phone’s blowing up.
First off, I’m supposed to meet this footballer from Carlisle United. You know, the team that plays at Brunton Park? Yeah, that one. Anyway, I’m running late. Typical me. I dash outta my flat on Warwick Road, and it’s like a scene from a movie. I’m dodging pigeons, old ladies, and a dog that looks like it’s plotting world domination.
I finally get to the café on Botchergate. It’s packed! I mean, who knew people loved their lattes this much? I grab a seat, and my client walks in. He’s all nervous, fidgeting like he’s about to jump outta his skin. I’m like, “Mate, chill! It’s just a chat.” But he’s stressing about the next match. I mean, it’s just football, right? But to him, it’s everything.
So, we’re talking, and I’m trying to get him to visualize scoring that winning goal. You know, the classic sports psych stuff. But then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off! Like, seriously? In a café? Everyone’s panicking, and I’m just sitting there, thinking, “This is gonna make a great story.”
We all pile out onto the street, and I’m standing there on Botchergate, watching the chaos. People are spilling their drinks, and I’m just laughing. I mean, come on! It’s a fire alarm, not the end of the world. But my client? He’s freaking out. I’m like, “Dude, it’s not like the building’s on fire. Just breathe.”
After a while, they let us back in. Turns out it was a false alarm. Phew! We get back to our chat, and he’s a bit more relaxed now. We talk about his goals, his fears, and all that jazz. I can see the weight lifting off his shoulders. It’s like magic, man.
Then, I head over to the Castle, you know, Carlisle Castle? It’s this epic medieval fortress. I’m just wandering around, soaking it all in. The history, the vibe, it’s unreal. I’m thinking about how many battles were fought there. And here I am, just a sports psychologist, trying to help people win their own battles. Kinda poetic, right?
But then, I get a text from my mate. He’s at The Old Fire Station, and they’ve got live music. I’m like, “Why not?” So, I head over. The place is buzzing! I grab a pint, and the band is playing some bangers. I’m dancing like no one’s watching, but trust me, they are.
Suddenly, I spot this guy from my last session. He’s there, looking all cool with his mates. I’m like, “Oh great, now I’m the weirdo dancing alone.” But whatever, I’m having a blast. We end up chatting, and he tells me he scored a goal in his last match. I’m like, “See? Visualization works!”
The night rolls on, and I’m feeling all the feels. Happy, proud, a bit tipsy. I mean, who knew Carlisle could be this lively? I stumble outta the pub, and it’s like 1 AM. The streets are quiet, but I’m still buzzing. I walk back to my flat, thinking about how wild the day was.
So, yeah, that was my day in Carlisle. Full of surprises, laughter, and a bit of chaos. Just another day in the life of a sports psychologist, I guess. But honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Carlisle, you’ve got my heart!