This might come as a surprise, but I'm not much of an athlete.
Climbing on the counter to reach something on the upper shelf is my idea of true athletic prowess. Retrieving said item without a bruise to the shin? That's something I'm actually proud of (pathetic). I get cramps if I walk after eating a sandwich and my greatest athletic achievement to date is completing the Naperville Turkey Trot. (I'll be holding on to that gem for years).
I place a lot of blame on my self-diagnosed lack of depth perception. Watching me try to catch a ball is a lot like Cuba Gooding Jr. in the 2003 sport drama "Radio." I can't run very fast or very far and I was often the kid that took a few good steps backward before running and whiffing in kickball. My positive attitude, ruthless smack talking and ability to not take myself too seriously made me tolerable to the other kids in gym class, but I was never picked for my talents.
Naturally, after years of embarrassing attempts to kick, throw, catch and shoot, joining a beach volleyball league would probably be the last place you'd find me. But I'm turning over a new leaf! It's time to get back on the saddle and actually try to bump and set (spiking seems wait out of my league). I'll be joining hundreds of others on the beaches of North Avenue to play recreational coed 6x6. The pressure to hit the ball over the net keeps me up at night and I keep trying to plan ways to "practice" before the recreational league begins in June. I haven't held a volleyball in about 7 years and anyone that knows me, knows that my freakishly small forearms aren't exactly helping my cause.
All I can do is go in there, "visualize the ball going over the net" and hope that everyone is more excited about the discounted post-game beers than actually winning...
For more from Twenty Something Digressions visit: twentysomethingdigressions.com