Sports have never really been mah thang, perse. Even though I’ve always been active in one thing or another – I do not consider them mah thang.
Mostly because my body is not very subtle in letting me know that it hates anything resembling movement by breaking at every possible seam in every possible way. But also because they’re damn tiring. And I happen to be ‘liever lui dan moe‘ (rather lazy than tired) if I can help it. But I don’t wanna turn Veronica Beauregard blueberry-sized like in Willy Wonka…so I work out anyway.
My grandma always said ‘Sport is mort’ (in a heavy Dutch accent not resembling French in any way). I am inclined to take her side on this matter. Sports ARE killing. Especially when you suck at them. And in that – they strangely resemble life. Especially when it comes to my current try-not-to-get-fat exercise excuse: skating (also known as Pokémon GOGOGO-ing).
These past few weeks I’ve been trying to do at least 20km of skating a week. Which comes down to four of my regular ’rounds’ of 5km. Loser numbers – I know – but with floppy hypermobility-ridden spraintastic ankles and hips that think so much out of the box that they don’t stay in in their sockets – it’s a big ask of my body. Every lil bit helps tho. So I skate.
And as I was making my way home today – I realized how every round I skate reminds me of how I see a lot of the phases/cycles in my life evolve. And how the fact that I still skate regardless of this knowledge means I’ll probably succeed at life as well.
Because every round I decide to skate brings with it rough starts and bumpy endings. And I know beforehand that it ain’t gonna be pretty. But I still have at it regardless. Because much like life – if ya don’t actually go for it – yer not gonna go.
You see – I live in a secluded little houseblock in my town (that’s in and of itself also secluded). Which means that when I open the door and roll my ass outside – I find cobblestones and hefty trottoir ridges. In lanes brimmed with trees. That shed leaves and twigs and little stones aplenty.
Now – when you’re skating – that’s not ideal. Especially when you’re not yet at any flowy speed…every small obstacle may drop you if your wheels hit it wrong. CLASHBOOMGAME-OVER. Until you’re at a decent pace and the impact is smaller and you skate right over them. But slow down enough and you’ll be back to a freshly born deer, wobbling around on unsteady legs. On wheels.
So every time I decide to go skating – I step outside in the full knowledge that the first 5 minutes are gonna suck. After that I’ll get to the freshly asphalted and usually very empty, smooth and very lovely skateparadise that takes me along the entire lovely nature-fest around my town – and the fun begins.
Same goes for the way back. I’ll be tired, cheeks burning from the exercise. A slight proud glow telling me I did good – and the instant drop of that joyous feeling of accomplishment at those last 300 meters of incoherent, almost dying, uncomfortable skating back to the house.
But in the end – I still go. As I do in life. Every new undertaking might have me on shaky legs at the start while I’m still finding my footing. And every end to a phase will find me in that painfully unsatisfactory bumpy ending which hurts more than it should. But in the end I’ll sit down on the couch of life and be able to sigh contentedly ‘at least I went out there and did it.’