March and Madness

I know March and Madness have something to do with basketball, but honestly, I don't follow sports at all. Especially basketball. That squeaking of sneakers on the court kind of wears on my nerves after about 3.6 seconds. It just looks like a bunch of running around to me, which isn't all that productive, is it?

Can you tell I'm not an athlete? Like, at all.

I have my reasons for not being an athlete. Well, actually, there's just the one reason.

I suck at sports. Epically.

Let's start with the fact that growing up, my mom used to call me "Grace." Not because I had the poise and elegance of a ballerina, but because I pretty much stomped around like a drunken elephant with its eyes closed. So hear the name "Grace" with the bucket of sarcasm that it came with. I bumped into things. I fell a lot. I could never get my arms and legs to move in the synchronicity that other people seemed to achieve easily.

What's really funny is how I'm writing this with past tense verbs, bumped, fell, like it doesn't happen anymore.

It happens.

For obvious reasons, I don't play any organized sports. Even as a kid I only played softball because my parents made me. I think they were getting worried about all that time I spent in my room. As if I were doing something truly heinous in there, like...like...reading. Oh, no. Don't let the child READ! She might grow up to...have a good vocabulary and be a good student and maybe, just maybe, she may get a wild and crazy notion to...gasp...write BOOKS!

Oh, the horror. The madness. Not just in March either.

Okay, so I'd rather read and write even today than play a sport that involves scary equipment and balls and sticks and bats and pucks. Shudder. BUT, that doesn't mean that I'm not active. I move. All the time. In fact, the only time I sit still is to read or write. I spend lots of time walking and not at the pace of the rest of the humans. I walk like lightning. Sure, I stumble, I trip, I fall flat on my face on many occasions, but I'm fast. Just ask my 105-pound German Shepherd, Anubis, who loves to walk with me. We cruise, and generally speaking, he's the only reason you'd ever see me with a tennis ball in my hand.

I like yoga and aerobics and lifting weights, which you will note don't involve me having to catch anything. My vision sucks, and although I'll put my hand out to catch something (or to protect my head), I never actually catch anything. It always falls like I have a hole in my hands or as my husband says, I have "Margarine Mitts." Things slip.

But, I'm okay with this lack of sports ability. I've come to terms with it. Some of us were meant to play hard, others of us were meant to read about those that play hard. And some of us were meant to write about those that play hard.

Besides, I don't look good with sweat on my brow. I just don't.

Do you play any sports? Are you any good?


Toodles,
Chris
www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com