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.
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So we're kindred spirits! We downsized our house so that I'd have one less set of stairs to fall down...
ReplyDeleteI really need to do that as well. Stairs are hard to avoid in a two storey.
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