Graceful as a Swan...er....as an Elephant....er....Not Quite That Graceful

I have never been overly athletic.  The best I ever was in sports was when I was about twelve.  I made it to the regional competition for track and field, for, of all things, high jump.  I think I got third place.  Which for someone with my track record, was an amazing feat.  I don't think I had exceptional skill in high jump.  But I was tall for my age, slim and I had really long legs.

This third place win would be the only thing in sports I have ever won.

My sons were athletic.  Each of them excelled in whatever they did.  To which I was eternally grateful.

I don't think it was my lack of skill.  It wasn't for lack of trying either.  I honestly wanted to do well at sports.  But I had a huge handicap - I was (and am) extremely clumsy.

I trip over carpet lint. And dog hair.  I will continually bang my knee or stub my toes on the same thing.  I shouldn't be allowed to get up in the middle of the night to use the loo without turning the light on.  Sometimes I manage to not hurt myself.   I will gratefully get back in bed and sigh with relief - only to realize I was too high up on the bed and set my head cracking on the metal headboard.

It's not easy when you're clumsy.  You can't carry a cup of tea without slopping at least a teaspoon of it on the floor.  In my case, it's usually on my clean, white, freshly ironed blouse that I have just donned.

I realized I was clumsy when I was about five and I overheard my mother telling my grandmother that I had broken every glass in a set my mother particularly liked.  When I was six, I fell off my bike and tore the skin on my knee open - four stitches.  I know, kids do these things but for years after, whenever I fell from my bike, it was always that exact spot that would be re-injured.  When I was nine, I walked into a corner of the wall, cracked my forehead open and needed six stitches.  A few months later, I tried field hockey.  I won't go into the details of that.

Here's a sample of my injuries over the years:

-shut a car door on my hand.  This was back in the day when cars were made with steel and doors weighed three hundred pounds.
-broken nose playing baseball, pop fly to be exact.
-each wrist sprained twice roller skating.
-broken toe walking into my vacuum.
-fell down the carpeted stairs one morning on my ass, bruising my tail bone and unable to walk for a week.
-fell up the stairs carrying three bottles of beer, cracking my knee cap.  Unable to walk properly for four days (didn't drop one beer though!)
-lost a toe nail playing baseball, again, a pop fly I couldn't see, landed on my toe (I was an adult)
-lost another toe nail last summer when I slipped on my mother's front porch, wearing flip flops.  Nail caught on the step and ripped off.

Suffice it to say, whenever someone suggests that I engage in a "fun" game of baseball, I cringe.  I envision injury.  It doesn't matter that there is a good chance that injury will be minor and easy to deal with.  The point is, I WILL hurt myself.  And I just don't want to.  There's a good chance I could lose an eye or a limb.  I don't like using power saws for this very reason.  Electric knives are also a no-no.  It took me years to get over my fear of electric mixers.  If something can go wrong, for me, it will.  So I play it safe.

Oddly, I only fell off my motorcycle once in ten years of riding.  I feel that I was really testing the fates, but maybe I have some skill on a motorcycle.

So, sorry honey, there will be no baseball playing or curling for me.  It's just not fun when you can't walk for a week after.