Lead Foot

No, the title does not refer to the way I drive--though my Daddy Bob often said I drove like my mother with a lead foot--the man was a great critic of everyone's driving. You should have heard him singing "Nearer My God to Thee" in the back seat of my friend Ellen's massive Ford LTD. Anyway...the lead foot refers to the way my feet felt today. Actually my legs. OK, actually my whole body. I don't know if it's related to the soreness from jogging on Saturday (I'm really out of practice with jogging) or if it's related to my ankle, which started stiffening up today, or if it was just general fatigue. I suspect a big combination of those bland ingredients--a recipe for dragging through my workout. I managed to get through most of Cathe's Rhythmic Step workout, but skipped the Challenge section at the end (the challenge runs through the combos together a few times). I could just barely drag myself through it, even though it's my favorite step workout! I chose it knowing I felt unmotivated and tired, so I can just imagine how tough it would have been to do a workout I didn't enjoy. I really started to feel my ankle toward the end, though it's hardly bothered me lately, so I'm glad I 'll be seeing a physical therapist on Wednesday.

Do you ever have these kind of workout days? Maybe it would have been better to just take a rest day, but I feel like I do that too often when I get in this mood. I did really want to complete a workout, and I did manage to do most of it, so I felt good that I pushed myself, but it wasn't fun the way my step workouts usually are. I did enjoy parts of it, especially as Rhythmic Step has gotten so much easier now that it's more familiar, but I didn't bound with the joy I knew I could feel in it on a good day.

I think tomorrow if I don't feel any better, I'll go ahead and rest and hit it harder on Wednesday (after I check with the PT that I am not overdoing it anyway). I'm tellin' ya, I'm even having trouble motivating myself to get up and wash my hair (so hard to do when the boys are up during the day), so you know I'm dragging. Here's to a better day tomorrow! I lift a glass of chocolate skim milk to you! (OK, better go get some chocolate skim milk so that I can make that a reality--maybe it will help.)

Lead Foot

No, the title does not refer to the way I drive--though my Daddy Bob often said I drove like my mother with a lead foot--the man was a great critic of everyone's driving. You should have heard him singing "Nearer My God to Thee" in the back seat of my friend Ellen's massive Ford LTD. Anyway...the lead foot refers to the way my feet felt today. Actually my legs. OK, actually my whole body. I don't know if it's related to the soreness from jogging on Saturday (I'm really out of practice with jogging) or if it's related to my ankle, which started stiffening up today, or if it was just general fatigue. I suspect a big combination of those bland ingredients--a recipe for dragging through my workout. I managed to get through most of Cathe's Rhythmic Step workout, but skipped the Challenge section at the end (the challenge runs through the combos together a few times). I could just barely drag myself through it, even though it's my favorite step workout! I chose it knowing I felt unmotivated and tired, so I can just imagine how tough it would have been to do a workout I didn't enjoy. I really started to feel my ankle toward the end, though it's hardly bothered me lately, so I'm glad I 'll be seeing a physical therapist on Wednesday.

Do you ever have these kind of workout days? Maybe it would have been better to just take a rest day, but I feel like I do that too often when I get in this mood. I did really want to complete a workout, and I did manage to do most of it, so I felt good that I pushed myself, but it wasn't fun the way my step workouts usually are. I did enjoy parts of it, especially as Rhythmic Step has gotten so much easier now that it's more familiar, but I didn't bound with the joy I knew I could feel in it on a good day.

I think tomorrow if I don't feel any better, I'll go ahead and rest and hit it harder on Wednesday (after I check with the PT that I am not overdoing it anyway). I'm tellin' ya, I'm even having trouble motivating myself to get up and wash my hair (so hard to do when the boys are up during the day), so you know I'm dragging. Here's to a better day tomorrow! I lift a glass of chocolate skim milk to you! (OK, better go get some chocolate skim milk so that I can make that a reality--maybe it will help.)

Lead Foot

No, the title does not refer to the way I drive--though my Daddy Bob often said I drove like my mother with a lead foot--the man was a great critic of everyone's driving. You should have heard him singing "Nearer My God to Thee" in the back seat of my friend Ellen's massive Ford LTD. Anyway...the lead foot refers to the way my feet felt today. Actually my legs. OK, actually my whole body. I don't know if it's related to the soreness from jogging on Saturday (I'm really out of practice with jogging) or if it's related to my ankle, which started stiffening up today, or if it was just general fatigue. I suspect a big combination of those bland ingredients--a recipe for dragging through my workout. I managed to get through most of Cathe's Rhythmic Step workout, but skipped the Challenge section at the end (the challenge runs through the combos together a few times). I could just barely drag myself through it, even though it's my favorite step workout! I chose it knowing I felt unmotivated and tired, so I can just imagine how tough it would have been to do a workout I didn't enjoy. I really started to feel my ankle toward the end, though it's hardly bothered me lately, so I'm glad I 'll be seeing a physical therapist on Wednesday.

Do you ever have these kind of workout days? Maybe it would have been better to just take a rest day, but I feel like I do that too often when I get in this mood. I did really want to complete a workout, and I did manage to do most of it, so I felt good that I pushed myself, but it wasn't fun the way my step workouts usually are. I did enjoy parts of it, especially as Rhythmic Step has gotten so much easier now that it's more familiar, but I didn't bound with the joy I knew I could feel in it on a good day.

I think tomorrow if I don't feel any better, I'll go ahead and rest and hit it harder on Wednesday (after I check with the PT that I am not overdoing it anyway). I'm tellin' ya, I'm even having trouble motivating myself to get up and wash my hair (so hard to do when the boys are up during the day), so you know I'm dragging. Here's to a better day tomorrow! I lift a glass of chocolate skim milk to you! (OK, better go get some chocolate skim milk so that I can make that a reality--maybe it will help.)

Reminiscing Again

I suddenly realized that I did not list all my so-called athletic experience in my reminiscing posts. (You can find them in the September archives where I wrote at least 3 posts contemplating my history in athletics and the performing arts and whether I am a klutz.)

Indeed, I missed two of my important collegiate attempts at grace and ability. First, I actually took a ballet class. I had never taken ballet as a young girl, but some friends in my college dorm got together and got a local ballet teacher to lead a special class just for us. Some of my friends had ballet experience already (especially a couple of petite twins who were experienced dancers and very limber--we called them the CTU--Contortionist Twin Unit--boy, I miss the CTU!) Anyway, a few of us were fairly hopeless and had never done a lick of ballet in our lives (like me, of course). Still, we had that class for several weeks and learned a lot. I began to feel more graceful even though I probably wasn't actually becoming any more graceful. We got to learn those different positions and even did some leaping about. It was very basic but we had a lot of fun. I still use some of the moves I learned then when I am dancing around my own house (in private or in front of my little boys, who are the best audience ever). It's a great asset to my around-the-house dancing, which also consists of moves learned in show choir, at many high school dances, and in hard rockin' mosh pits in the 90's.

Another athletic attempt was when I took Fencing in college. Yes, I took a fencing class! And I got A's in it! It was taught by a short, geeky, philosophy teacher (Dr. Hill--many thanks to Chappy for reminding me of his name). Our fencing class was overwhelmingly male, and they tended to be of the less athletic, more cerebral (i.e. nerdy or geeky) type. There were only 2 or 3 of us girls. I had the most ample chest of the girls, so I got to wear the one set of breast plates that the fencing class had. It was a little embarrassing being the only one who wore breast plates, but it was also fun when one of the boys clinked a foil against my chest and then blushed furiously. They were very reluctant to hit me in the chest, which I found to be a great fighting advantage. I remember doing fairly well at fencing. I wasn't necessarily one of the best in the class, but I was far from the worst, which is really saying something for a klutz like me. I also never signed up to go to competition, and I didn't take a second semester, so that's where my brief fencing career ended. I still remember it fondly, though, and I occasionally take up a fencing position, salute, lunge, and thrust. I can't even remember all the cute little French fencing terms, but I find that my body has not forgotten the moves (like riding a bike, I guess).

It's hard to believe that a klutz like me has survived so many ungainly attempts at athleticism, but I keep on keeping on. Nowadays it's all about step aerobics, weightlifting, kickboxing, and even (gasp) the occasional jog, so I haven't given up on being stronger and faster. I have, however, pretty much given up at competing athletically, though I'll never say never. ;)

Reminiscing Again

I suddenly realized that I did not list all my so-called athletic experience in my reminiscing posts. (You can find them in the September archives where I wrote at least 3 posts contemplating my history in athletics and the performing arts and whether I am a klutz.)

Indeed, I missed two of my important collegiate attempts at grace and ability. First, I actually took a ballet class. I had never taken ballet as a young girl, but some friends in my college dorm got together and got a local ballet teacher to lead a special class just for us. Some of my friends had ballet experience already (especially a couple of petite twins who were experienced dancers and very limber--we called them the CTU--Contortionist Twin Unit--boy, I miss the CTU!) Anyway, a few of us were fairly hopeless and had never done a lick of ballet in our lives (like me, of course). Still, we had that class for several weeks and learned a lot. I began to feel more graceful even though I probably wasn't actually becoming any more graceful. We got to learn those different positions and even did some leaping about. It was very basic but we had a lot of fun. I still use some of the moves I learned then when I am dancing around my own house (in private or in front of my little boys, who are the best audience ever). It's a great asset to my around-the-house dancing, which also consists of moves learned in show choir, at many high school dances, and in hard rockin' mosh pits in the 90's.

Another athletic attempt was when I took Fencing in college. Yes, I took a fencing class! And I got A's in it! It was taught by a short, geeky, philosophy teacher (Dr. Hill--many thanks to Chappy for reminding me of his name). Our fencing class was overwhelmingly male, and they tended to be of the less athletic, more cerebral (i.e. nerdy or geeky) type. There were only 2 or 3 of us girls. I had the most ample chest of the girls, so I got to wear the one set of breast plates that the fencing class had. It was a little embarrassing being the only one who wore breast plates, but it was also fun when one of the boys clinked a foil against my chest and then blushed furiously. They were very reluctant to hit me in the chest, which I found to be a great fighting advantage. I remember doing fairly well at fencing. I wasn't necessarily one of the best in the class, but I was far from the worst, which is really saying something for a klutz like me. I also never signed up to go to competition, and I didn't take a second semester, so that's where my brief fencing career ended. I still remember it fondly, though, and I occasionally take up a fencing position, salute, lunge, and thrust. I can't even remember all the cute little French fencing terms, but I find that my body has not forgotten the moves (like riding a bike, I guess).

It's hard to believe that a klutz like me has survived so many ungainly attempts at athleticism, but I keep on keeping on. Nowadays it's all about step aerobics, weightlifting, kickboxing, and even (gasp) the occasional jog, so I haven't given up on being stronger and faster. I have, however, pretty much given up at competing athletically, though I'll never say never. ;)

Reminiscing Again

I suddenly realized that I did not list all my so-called athletic experience in my reminiscing posts. (You can find them in the September archives where I wrote at least 3 posts contemplating my history in athletics and the performing arts and whether I am a klutz.)

Indeed, I missed two of my important collegiate attempts at grace and ability. First, I actually took a ballet class. I had never taken ballet as a young girl, but some friends in my college dorm got together and got a local ballet teacher to lead a special class just for us. Some of my friends had ballet experience already (especially a couple of petite twins who were experienced dancers and very limber--we called them the CTU--Contortionist Twin Unit--boy, I miss the CTU!) Anyway, a few of us were fairly hopeless and had never done a lick of ballet in our lives (like me, of course). Still, we had that class for several weeks and learned a lot. I began to feel more graceful even though I probably wasn't actually becoming any more graceful. We got to learn those different positions and even did some leaping about. It was very basic but we had a lot of fun. I still use some of the moves I learned then when I am dancing around my own house (in private or in front of my little boys, who are the best audience ever). It's a great asset to my around-the-house dancing, which also consists of moves learned in show choir, at many high school dances, and in hard rockin' mosh pits in the 90's.

Another athletic attempt was when I took Fencing in college. Yes, I took a fencing class! And I got A's in it! It was taught by a short, geeky, philosophy teacher (Dr. Hill--many thanks to Chappy for reminding me of his name). Our fencing class was overwhelmingly male, and they tended to be of the less athletic, more cerebral (i.e. nerdy or geeky) type. There were only 2 or 3 of us girls. I had the most ample chest of the girls, so I got to wear the one set of breast plates that the fencing class had. It was a little embarrassing being the only one who wore breast plates, but it was also fun when one of the boys clinked a foil against my chest and then blushed furiously. They were very reluctant to hit me in the chest, which I found to be a great fighting advantage. I remember doing fairly well at fencing. I wasn't necessarily one of the best in the class, but I was far from the worst, which is really saying something for a klutz like me. I also never signed up to go to competition, and I didn't take a second semester, so that's where my brief fencing career ended. I still remember it fondly, though, and I occasionally take up a fencing position, salute, lunge, and thrust. I can't even remember all the cute little French fencing terms, but I find that my body has not forgotten the moves (like riding a bike, I guess).

It's hard to believe that a klutz like me has survived so many ungainly attempts at athleticism, but I keep on keeping on. Nowadays it's all about step aerobics, weightlifting, kickboxing, and even (gasp) the occasional jog, so I haven't given up on being stronger and faster. I have, however, pretty much given up at competing athletically, though I'll never say never. ;)

Another Contemplation of Whether Lainie Is a Klutz

I promised (or threatened) to write a blog entry about my athletic prowess...or lack thereof...in my continuing examination of whether I am a klutz. I’m pretty sure I’ve already shown that I am definitely a klutz, but I will write this one anyway, because I do have an amusing history as an unaccomplished athlete.

I should start by saying I am the youngest child in a large blended family. I am the 10th if you count the whole group altogether, but at most only 8 of us lived together (my stepfather’s 4 children and my mother’s 4). I am 7 years younger than the nearest in age, so I am most definitely the baby of the family. I mention this because it relates to my early experiences with sports and the like. My brothers and stepbrothers were all somewhat athletic. We lived in a small town so there was plenty of opportunity to join the high school athletic teams. One brother in particular played in several sports--basketball, football, track, perhaps more. This brother, Tommy, also tried his darndest to interest me in sports as well. At first it was just teaching me to wrestle. I mainly used those skills in fights with my sister Kendra, the only sibling in which I had physical battles. I also had some prowess in defending myself on the school playground, but had little call to use it since everyone knew I had the 4 older (and some of them very large) brothers. Tommy also taught me some football at a young age which I attempted during recess with the boys. I think I held my own, but the boys didn’t always let me play since the teacher wouldn’t allow tackling if girls were playing (sexist).

As I got a little older, Tommy focused on teaching me basketball. The poor guy did everything he could to show me the right moves. I got to where I could do a decent bank shot and make a few free throws, even occasionally some nice easy layups. But when it came down to it, I was 1) short, 2) clumsy, and 3) horribly freaked out under pressure. I played in both 5th grade and 8th grade. I don’t even remember much about 5th grade except being on a team. In 8th grade we only won one game. With a score of 9-0. Tommy pointed out that it was more like a football score than a basketball score with those low numbers. In our defense, we were one of the smallest teams in the league--we only had 7 players on the whole team so we didn’t get much rest during a game. I was one of the starters (not very impressive now that you already know it was only 7 people) and I was clueless half the time even about the rules of the game (in spite of Tommy’s tutelage). I don’t know if I ever scored in a game--maybe once. So my basketball career was a bit sad and ignominious. I should also mention that at this time I was also the junior high school’s mascot. Yep. I had intended to try out for the cheerleading squad (and probably would have actually made it because our school was so dang small) but I was sick with the flu during tryouts. Instead I made it to mascot tryouts a week later. Only two of us tried out and they actually made us both mascots so we could take turns. However, the other girl was always flunking and therefore disqualified from extracurricular activities, so I became the sole mascot. I wore a longhorn cow suit. Oh the shame. So I would play a game of basketball and then have to put my sweaty self into a boiling hot longhorn suit to go cheer on the boys’ game. At least they won a little more often than the girls’ team. So this story does nothing to improve my history of clumsiness, but it does show how dedicated I was.

Here’s my 8th grade basketball photo:



I’m sorry to say I don’t have a picture of myself in the longhorn getup.



The photo above was taken at my church youth group in high school. Hey, I sewed that shirt in a crafty phase! Anyway, I used to have some skill with hula hoops. I think in the picture above I was doing it for some sort of competition, but I also learned a little trick in college. I would twirl two hula hoops around my waist, and at the same time I would get two yo-yos going and then I’d eat a cookie. It’s a great way to work the calories off while consuming the cookie, I suppose. I’m not saying I didn’t have the odd accident with this trick, but I could usually pull it off. See, not always the klutz!?

My senior year of high school I had a swimming class and I turned out to be pretty decent at that. I find it much easier to be graceful in the water than on land (like a big ol’ manatee or something). I did particularly well when we used kickboards and propelled ourselves across the pool using leg strength along. Once we used arms the boys were faster (which is a bit sad because they were mostly freshmen). I did not join the swim team, just took the class for a P.E. credit, but the coach told me that if I’d come along as a freshman, I would have been a great backstroke swimmer for the team. I treasured that thought since I have so seldom had a compliment on my athleticism, even such a small one as that. This reminds me that I really need to join the local Y soon so I can swim there.

In college my main attempt at sports was one semester playing intramural water polo. In case you don’t know the term, intramural means we played other teams within the university, so it wasn’t a super-tough competition between schools. My team won the intramural championship that year, though I don’t know how much I affected that. At least I didn’t cause us to lose; I know that much. I still like to wear our Intramural Championship T-shirt when I want to pretend I’m athletic. I should probably admit that the whole intramural league used inner tubes to float in to play water polo, though I remember being surprised when I realized that--I was all for playing without them.

Finally, I should mention the picture at the top of this blog entry. I have only been skiing one time (when I went with a few college buddies to visit our friend Brian in Colorado--not the same Brian who’s now my husband). Brian gave me some pointers on how to ski and I took off and quite enjoyed it. I don’t think I did too badly my first day--except for the stopping. I mainly stopped by falling down. I usually fell down on purpose to stop, but still--not graceful in the least. I felt great until the next day when I was incredibly sore. If I get to go skiing again (probably when the kids are older) I hope all my workouts help me to ski a little better. Work those legs!

In conclusion, I have made several sad attempts to be athletic, but the only thing I came close to decent at was swimming. Considering my recent pivot repeater injury, I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have stuck with swimming. I am a klutz extraordinaire.

Another Contemplation of Whether Lainie Is a Klutz

I promised (or threatened) to write a blog entry about my athletic prowess...or lack thereof...in my continuing examination of whether I am a klutz. I’m pretty sure I’ve already shown that I am definitely a klutz, but I will write this one anyway, because I do have an amusing history as an unaccomplished athlete.

I should start by saying I am the youngest child in a large blended family. I am the 10th if you count the whole group altogether, but at most only 8 of us lived together (my stepfather’s 4 children and my mother’s 4). I am 7 years younger than the nearest in age, so I am most definitely the baby of the family. I mention this because it relates to my early experiences with sports and the like. My brothers and stepbrothers were all somewhat athletic. We lived in a small town so there was plenty of opportunity to join the high school athletic teams. One brother in particular played in several sports--basketball, football, track, perhaps more. This brother, Tommy, also tried his darndest to interest me in sports as well. At first it was just teaching me to wrestle. I mainly used those skills in fights with my sister Kendra, the only sibling in which I had physical battles. I also had some prowess in defending myself on the school playground, but had little call to use it since everyone knew I had the 4 older (and some of them very large) brothers. Tommy also taught me some football at a young age which I attempted during recess with the boys. I think I held my own, but the boys didn’t always let me play since the teacher wouldn’t allow tackling if girls were playing (sexist).

As I got a little older, Tommy focused on teaching me basketball. The poor guy did everything he could to show me the right moves. I got to where I could do a decent bank shot and make a few free throws, even occasionally some nice easy layups. But when it came down to it, I was 1) short, 2) clumsy, and 3) horribly freaked out under pressure. I played in both 5th grade and 8th grade. I don’t even remember much about 5th grade except being on a team. In 8th grade we only won one game. With a score of 9-0. Tommy pointed out that it was more like a football score than a basketball score with those low numbers. In our defense, we were one of the smallest teams in the league--we only had 7 players on the whole team so we didn’t get much rest during a game. I was one of the starters (not very impressive now that you already know it was only 7 people) and I was clueless half the time even about the rules of the game (in spite of Tommy’s tutelage). I don’t know if I ever scored in a game--maybe once. So my basketball career was a bit sad and ignominious. I should also mention that at this time I was also the junior high school’s mascot. Yep. I had intended to try out for the cheerleading squad (and probably would have actually made it because our school was so dang small) but I was sick with the flu during tryouts. Instead I made it to mascot tryouts a week later. Only two of us tried out and they actually made us both mascots so we could take turns. However, the other girl was always flunking and therefore disqualified from extracurricular activities, so I became the sole mascot. I wore a longhorn cow suit. Oh the shame. So I would play a game of basketball and then have to put my sweaty self into a boiling hot longhorn suit to go cheer on the boys’ game. At least they won a little more often than the girls’ team. So this story does nothing to improve my history of clumsiness, but it does show how dedicated I was.

Here’s my 8th grade basketball photo:



I’m sorry to say I don’t have a picture of myself in the longhorn getup.



The photo above was taken at my church youth group in high school. Hey, I sewed that shirt in a crafty phase! Anyway, I used to have some skill with hula hoops. I think in the picture above I was doing it for some sort of competition, but I also learned a little trick in college. I would twirl two hula hoops around my waist, and at the same time I would get two yo-yos going and then I’d eat a cookie. It’s a great way to work the calories off while consuming the cookie, I suppose. I’m not saying I didn’t have the odd accident with this trick, but I could usually pull it off. See, not always the klutz!?

My senior year of high school I had a swimming class and I turned out to be pretty decent at that. I find it much easier to be graceful in the water than on land (like a big ol’ manatee or something). I did particularly well when we used kickboards and propelled ourselves across the pool using leg strength along. Once we used arms the boys were faster (which is a bit sad because they were mostly freshmen). I did not join the swim team, just took the class for a P.E. credit, but the coach told me that if I’d come along as a freshman, I would have been a great backstroke swimmer for the team. I treasured that thought since I have so seldom had a compliment on my athleticism, even such a small one as that. This reminds me that I really need to join the local Y soon so I can swim there.

In college my main attempt at sports was one semester playing intramural water polo. In case you don’t know the term, intramural means we played other teams within the university, so it wasn’t a super-tough competition between schools. My team won the intramural championship that year, though I don’t know how much I affected that. At least I didn’t cause us to lose; I know that much. I still like to wear our Intramural Championship T-shirt when I want to pretend I’m athletic. I should probably admit that the whole intramural league used inner tubes to float in to play water polo, though I remember being surprised when I realized that--I was all for playing without them.

Finally, I should mention the picture at the top of this blog entry. I have only been skiing one time (when I went with a few college buddies to visit our friend Brian in Colorado--not the same Brian who’s now my husband). Brian gave me some pointers on how to ski and I took off and quite enjoyed it. I don’t think I did too badly my first day--except for the stopping. I mainly stopped by falling down. I usually fell down on purpose to stop, but still--not graceful in the least. I felt great until the next day when I was incredibly sore. If I get to go skiing again (probably when the kids are older) I hope all my workouts help me to ski a little better. Work those legs!

In conclusion, I have made several sad attempts to be athletic, but the only thing I came close to decent at was swimming. Considering my recent pivot repeater injury, I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have stuck with swimming. I am a klutz extraordinaire.

Another Contemplation of Whether Lainie Is a Klutz

I promised (or threatened) to write a blog entry about my athletic prowess...or lack thereof...in my continuing examination of whether I am a klutz. I’m pretty sure I’ve already shown that I am definitely a klutz, but I will write this one anyway, because I do have an amusing history as an unaccomplished athlete.

I should start by saying I am the youngest child in a large blended family. I am the 10th if you count the whole group altogether, but at most only 8 of us lived together (my stepfather’s 4 children and my mother’s 4). I am 7 years younger than the nearest in age, so I am most definitely the baby of the family. I mention this because it relates to my early experiences with sports and the like. My brothers and stepbrothers were all somewhat athletic. We lived in a small town so there was plenty of opportunity to join the high school athletic teams. One brother in particular played in several sports--basketball, football, track, perhaps more. This brother, Tommy, also tried his darndest to interest me in sports as well. At first it was just teaching me to wrestle. I mainly used those skills in fights with my sister Kendra, the only sibling in which I had physical battles. I also had some prowess in defending myself on the school playground, but had little call to use it since everyone knew I had the 4 older (and some of them very large) brothers. Tommy also taught me some football at a young age which I attempted during recess with the boys. I think I held my own, but the boys didn’t always let me play since the teacher wouldn’t allow tackling if girls were playing (sexist).

As I got a little older, Tommy focused on teaching me basketball. The poor guy did everything he could to show me the right moves. I got to where I could do a decent bank shot and make a few free throws, even occasionally some nice easy layups. But when it came down to it, I was 1) short, 2) clumsy, and 3) horribly freaked out under pressure. I played in both 5th grade and 8th grade. I don’t even remember much about 5th grade except being on a team. In 8th grade we only won one game. With a score of 9-0. Tommy pointed out that it was more like a football score than a basketball score with those low numbers. In our defense, we were one of the smallest teams in the league--we only had 7 players on the whole team so we didn’t get much rest during a game. I was one of the starters (not very impressive now that you already know it was only 7 people) and I was clueless half the time even about the rules of the game (in spite of Tommy’s tutelage). I don’t know if I ever scored in a game--maybe once. So my basketball career was a bit sad and ignominious. I should also mention that at this time I was also the junior high school’s mascot. Yep. I had intended to try out for the cheerleading squad (and probably would have actually made it because our school was so dang small) but I was sick with the flu during tryouts. Instead I made it to mascot tryouts a week later. Only two of us tried out and they actually made us both mascots so we could take turns. However, the other girl was always flunking and therefore disqualified from extracurricular activities, so I became the sole mascot. I wore a longhorn cow suit. Oh the shame. So I would play a game of basketball and then have to put my sweaty self into a boiling hot longhorn suit to go cheer on the boys’ game. At least they won a little more often than the girls’ team. So this story does nothing to improve my history of clumsiness, but it does show how dedicated I was.

Here’s my 8th grade basketball photo:



I’m sorry to say I don’t have a picture of myself in the longhorn getup.



The photo above was taken at my church youth group in high school. Hey, I sewed that shirt in a crafty phase! Anyway, I used to have some skill with hula hoops. I think in the picture above I was doing it for some sort of competition, but I also learned a little trick in college. I would twirl two hula hoops around my waist, and at the same time I would get two yo-yos going and then I’d eat a cookie. It’s a great way to work the calories off while consuming the cookie, I suppose. I’m not saying I didn’t have the odd accident with this trick, but I could usually pull it off. See, not always the klutz!?

My senior year of high school I had a swimming class and I turned out to be pretty decent at that. I find it much easier to be graceful in the water than on land (like a big ol’ manatee or something). I did particularly well when we used kickboards and propelled ourselves across the pool using leg strength along. Once we used arms the boys were faster (which is a bit sad because they were mostly freshmen). I did not join the swim team, just took the class for a P.E. credit, but the coach told me that if I’d come along as a freshman, I would have been a great backstroke swimmer for the team. I treasured that thought since I have so seldom had a compliment on my athleticism, even such a small one as that. This reminds me that I really need to join the local Y soon so I can swim there.

In college my main attempt at sports was one semester playing intramural water polo. In case you don’t know the term, intramural means we played other teams within the university, so it wasn’t a super-tough competition between schools. My team won the intramural championship that year, though I don’t know how much I affected that. At least I didn’t cause us to lose; I know that much. I still like to wear our Intramural Championship T-shirt when I want to pretend I’m athletic. I should probably admit that the whole intramural league used inner tubes to float in to play water polo, though I remember being surprised when I realized that--I was all for playing without them.

Finally, I should mention the picture at the top of this blog entry. I have only been skiing one time (when I went with a few college buddies to visit our friend Brian in Colorado--not the same Brian who’s now my husband). Brian gave me some pointers on how to ski and I took off and quite enjoyed it. I don’t think I did too badly my first day--except for the stopping. I mainly stopped by falling down. I usually fell down on purpose to stop, but still--not graceful in the least. I felt great until the next day when I was incredibly sore. If I get to go skiing again (probably when the kids are older) I hope all my workouts help me to ski a little better. Work those legs!

In conclusion, I have made several sad attempts to be athletic, but the only thing I came close to decent at was swimming. Considering my recent pivot repeater injury, I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have stuck with swimming. I am a klutz extraordinaire.

More Reminiscing--So Am I a Klutz or a Performer?

I am still wandering down memory lane, contemplating my klutzhood. The photo at right is me at age 5 or so in a very cute little angel getup (if I do say so myself). I was the smallest angel at the school Christmas pageant that year. I had older siblings who had other parts in the pageant (I was the youngest of a large family). I don’t think I tripped or anything in my admittedly easy performance. So it was not an example of clumsiness, exactly. However, there are rumors that I did engage in nose-picking while on stage...so it wasn’t a moment of great glory, either.



In the photo above you’ll see me dressed like a waiter (yes, a male waiter) for my senior year one act play. I even had my breasts bound to pull off this astounding feat of androgyny. Look at me, the dedicated actress honing her craft. Or perhaps not. I did only have one line in the play. In fact, I think I only had one word, a name--”Leandro!” I did that one line with great gusto, though--I even made a silly face the entire time I was on stage. It was a sort of screwball comedy so I was one of the screwballs.



Above you see my friend Ellen and I performing some crazy dances at the Baptist Student Union at college. Poor Ellen wasn’t even a member of the BSU but I roped her into doing this. The one on the left is supposed to be representing the 40’s and the one on the right is obviously the 70’s (it was actually 1995 or so). I actually did every decade of the previous century and these two were with Ellen. So again, I got up in front of people and made a fool of myself, though at least I didn’t wind up in a heap on the floor. I actually did stuff like this at the BSU all the time. I also sang with the BSU choir and went to churches all over Missouri--singing, speaking, acting in skits, etc. However, the fact remains that I am both shy and clumsy. I was really fighting against the odds to be some kind of outgoing performing kind of person.

So, in spite of numerous performance experiences, I suspect I am still a klutz. It’s hard to deny it, though I may come back with some athletic experiences next time...wait until you see me with a basketball.

More Reminiscing--So Am I a Klutz or a Performer?

I am still wandering down memory lane, contemplating my klutzhood. The photo at right is me at age 5 or so in a very cute little angel getup (if I do say so myself). I was the smallest angel at the school Christmas pageant that year. I had older siblings who had other parts in the pageant (I was the youngest of a large family). I don’t think I tripped or anything in my admittedly easy performance. So it was not an example of clumsiness, exactly. However, there are rumors that I did engage in nose-picking while on stage...so it wasn’t a moment of great glory, either.



In the photo above you’ll see me dressed like a waiter (yes, a male waiter) for my senior year one act play. I even had my breasts bound to pull off this astounding feat of androgyny. Look at me, the dedicated actress honing her craft. Or perhaps not. I did only have one line in the play. In fact, I think I only had one word, a name--”Leandro!” I did that one line with great gusto, though--I even made a silly face the entire time I was on stage. It was a sort of screwball comedy so I was one of the screwballs.



Above you see my friend Ellen and I performing some crazy dances at the Baptist Student Union at college. Poor Ellen wasn’t even a member of the BSU but I roped her into doing this. The one on the left is supposed to be representing the 40’s and the one on the right is obviously the 70’s (it was actually 1995 or so). I actually did every decade of the previous century and these two were with Ellen. So again, I got up in front of people and made a fool of myself, though at least I didn’t wind up in a heap on the floor. I actually did stuff like this at the BSU all the time. I also sang with the BSU choir and went to churches all over Missouri--singing, speaking, acting in skits, etc. However, the fact remains that I am both shy and clumsy. I was really fighting against the odds to be some kind of outgoing performing kind of person.

So, in spite of numerous performance experiences, I suspect I am still a klutz. It’s hard to deny it, though I may come back with some athletic experiences next time...wait until you see me with a basketball.

More Reminiscing--So Am I a Klutz or a Performer?

I am still wandering down memory lane, contemplating my klutzhood. The photo at right is me at age 5 or so in a very cute little angel getup (if I do say so myself). I was the smallest angel at the school Christmas pageant that year. I had older siblings who had other parts in the pageant (I was the youngest of a large family). I don’t think I tripped or anything in my admittedly easy performance. So it was not an example of clumsiness, exactly. However, there are rumors that I did engage in nose-picking while on stage...so it wasn’t a moment of great glory, either.



In the photo above you’ll see me dressed like a waiter (yes, a male waiter) for my senior year one act play. I even had my breasts bound to pull off this astounding feat of androgyny. Look at me, the dedicated actress honing her craft. Or perhaps not. I did only have one line in the play. In fact, I think I only had one word, a name--”Leandro!” I did that one line with great gusto, though--I even made a silly face the entire time I was on stage. It was a sort of screwball comedy so I was one of the screwballs.



Above you see my friend Ellen and I performing some crazy dances at the Baptist Student Union at college. Poor Ellen wasn’t even a member of the BSU but I roped her into doing this. The one on the left is supposed to be representing the 40’s and the one on the right is obviously the 70’s (it was actually 1995 or so). I actually did every decade of the previous century and these two were with Ellen. So again, I got up in front of people and made a fool of myself, though at least I didn’t wind up in a heap on the floor. I actually did stuff like this at the BSU all the time. I also sang with the BSU choir and went to churches all over Missouri--singing, speaking, acting in skits, etc. However, the fact remains that I am both shy and clumsy. I was really fighting against the odds to be some kind of outgoing performing kind of person.

So, in spite of numerous performance experiences, I suspect I am still a klutz. It’s hard to deny it, though I may come back with some athletic experiences next time...wait until you see me with a basketball.

Reminiscing--Singing and Dancing in my Past

Edited to add: If you’re wondering how this blog entry relates to fitness--I was pondering my clumsiness because of the recent ankle injury (from falling off my step) that has sidelined me lately.

This is a pic of my high school show choir performing. I’m the chick of the middle couple.

I was thinking today about whether or not I’m a klutz. My husband will tell you unequivocally that yes, Lainie is indeed a total klutz, but the story is not that black and white.

You can see me performing in the photo above (though it’s hard to tell that’s moi) and it’s true I was in a show choir in high school. We did many performances which involved singing and dancing, and sometimes even cartwheels across the stage--and yes, I was one of the girls who did the cartwheels in dancing shoes and a dress (we did wear bloomers underneath, by the way). So that would indicate I was not a complete klutz. However, I was not one of the girls who did lifts (or was lifted, to be more exact). I was supposed to be one of the girls lifted in the performance shown in the photo, but I couldn’t get it right, so I got the lame leaning-away-from-my-partner move, instead. His name was Miles (or Myles? I don’t remember), in case you’re curious. If you’re familiar with the film Dirty Dancing (and if you’re a woman around my age--you know it well), then just imagine the difficulty Baby had trying to get the lift right. Only in my case I didn’t have Patrick Swayze or a beautiful lake to practice lifting. I had geeky high school choir boys, a shrill music teacher, and an ugly choir room with a hard floor. I just couldn’t trust those boys enough to let them lift me (not even the one sort of cute one).

OK, I don’t want to go too far off the subject. The point is that I could cartwheel and dance (when taught the choreography) but not do lifts. The tricky part was I had to sing properly while dancing. I think I pulled that off fine but the teacher was always disappointed that I didn’t smile big enough. I hated the way we were supposed to have those big goofy smiles. Plus I have always been shy (not sure what possessed me to sing on stages) so the few times I did a solo, it was hard not to do it with a shaky voice. That’s irrelevant to whether I am clumsy or not, though. Still, here’s a photo of me singing shakily:



Check out those hideous 1991 jeans we were all wearing. Yikes.

So I was definitely able to adequately perform on stage in high school (except for the smiling and lifting) but it probably does not prove I am not a klutz...especially once I admit how often I fell down walking through corridors or down stairs in the school. I’ve written so much already just about choir that I think I’ll save my other examples of whether or not I’m clumsy for another day. Stay tuned.

Reminiscing--Singing and Dancing in my Past

Edited to add: If you’re wondering how this blog entry relates to fitness--I was pondering my clumsiness because of the recent ankle injury (from falling off my step) that has sidelined me lately.

This is a pic of my high school show choir performing. I’m the chick of the middle couple.

I was thinking today about whether or not I’m a klutz. My husband will tell you unequivocally that yes, Lainie is indeed a total klutz, but the story is not that black and white.

You can see me performing in the photo above (though it’s hard to tell that’s moi) and it’s true I was in a show choir in high school. We did many performances which involved singing and dancing, and sometimes even cartwheels across the stage--and yes, I was one of the girls who did the cartwheels in dancing shoes and a dress (we did wear bloomers underneath, by the way). So that would indicate I was not a complete klutz. However, I was not one of the girls who did lifts (or was lifted, to be more exact). I was supposed to be one of the girls lifted in the performance shown in the photo, but I couldn’t get it right, so I got the lame leaning-away-from-my-partner move, instead. His name was Miles (or Myles? I don’t remember), in case you’re curious. If you’re familiar with the film Dirty Dancing (and if you’re a woman around my age--you know it well), then just imagine the difficulty Baby had trying to get the lift right. Only in my case I didn’t have Patrick Swayze or a beautiful lake to practice lifting. I had geeky high school choir boys, a shrill music teacher, and an ugly choir room with a hard floor. I just couldn’t trust those boys enough to let them lift me (not even the one sort of cute one).

OK, I don’t want to go too far off the subject. The point is that I could cartwheel and dance (when taught the choreography) but not do lifts. The tricky part was I had to sing properly while dancing. I think I pulled that off fine but the teacher was always disappointed that I didn’t smile big enough. I hated the way we were supposed to have those big goofy smiles. Plus I have always been shy (not sure what possessed me to sing on stages) so the few times I did a solo, it was hard not to do it with a shaky voice. That’s irrelevant to whether I am clumsy or not, though. Still, here’s a photo of me singing shakily:



Check out those hideous 1991 jeans we were all wearing. Yikes.

So I was definitely able to adequately perform on stage in high school (except for the smiling and lifting) but it probably does not prove I am not a klutz...especially once I admit how often I fell down walking through corridors or down stairs in the school. I’ve written so much already just about choir that I think I’ll save my other examples of whether or not I’m clumsy for another day. Stay tuned.

Reminiscing--Singing and Dancing in my Past

Edited to add: If you’re wondering how this blog entry relates to fitness--I was pondering my clumsiness because of the recent ankle injury (from falling off my step) that has sidelined me lately.

This is a pic of my high school show choir performing. I’m the chick of the middle couple.

I was thinking today about whether or not I’m a klutz. My husband will tell you unequivocally that yes, Lainie is indeed a total klutz, but the story is not that black and white.

You can see me performing in the photo above (though it’s hard to tell that’s moi) and it’s true I was in a show choir in high school. We did many performances which involved singing and dancing, and sometimes even cartwheels across the stage--and yes, I was one of the girls who did the cartwheels in dancing shoes and a dress (we did wear bloomers underneath, by the way). So that would indicate I was not a complete klutz. However, I was not one of the girls who did lifts (or was lifted, to be more exact). I was supposed to be one of the girls lifted in the performance shown in the photo, but I couldn’t get it right, so I got the lame leaning-away-from-my-partner move, instead. His name was Miles (or Myles? I don’t remember), in case you’re curious. If you’re familiar with the film Dirty Dancing (and if you’re a woman around my age--you know it well), then just imagine the difficulty Baby had trying to get the lift right. Only in my case I didn’t have Patrick Swayze or a beautiful lake to practice lifting. I had geeky high school choir boys, a shrill music teacher, and an ugly choir room with a hard floor. I just couldn’t trust those boys enough to let them lift me (not even the one sort of cute one).

OK, I don’t want to go too far off the subject. The point is that I could cartwheel and dance (when taught the choreography) but not do lifts. The tricky part was I had to sing properly while dancing. I think I pulled that off fine but the teacher was always disappointed that I didn’t smile big enough. I hated the way we were supposed to have those big goofy smiles. Plus I have always been shy (not sure what possessed me to sing on stages) so the few times I did a solo, it was hard not to do it with a shaky voice. That’s irrelevant to whether I am clumsy or not, though. Still, here’s a photo of me singing shakily:



Check out those hideous 1991 jeans we were all wearing. Yikes.

So I was definitely able to adequately perform on stage in high school (except for the smiling and lifting) but it probably does not prove I am not a klutz...especially once I admit how often I fell down walking through corridors or down stairs in the school. I’ve written so much already just about choir that I think I’ll save my other examples of whether or not I’m clumsy for another day. Stay tuned.