Working with a trainer this past month has taught me 2 things about myself: I have to learn how to run, and I can’t jump rope.
Excuse me what?!
While my kids were home on spring break, I was given the task of jumping rope during one of my at home workouts. It was the worst. 100 passes took me most of the day. How could an activity children do for fun, be so evil!? My heart was pounding, I was unbelievably sweaty. It was brutal. What a workout.
Last Tuesday, Terry the Tormentor brought jump rope back to our workout routine. 50 passes. Ok, Sam. Deep breath, you can do this…until I hit 20something and he shouts, “what?! What?! No no no. Stop. What are you doing!?” Everything wrong, that’s what. He asked if Justin had ever seen me jump rope. Um, NO! He’s never seen me pee either, and I’m ok with keeping both activities private from him, thank you!
Of course, with my poor jump roping skills, and my poor running technique, I was left wondering: how in the world did I ever graduate from Kindergarten!?
Before you start thinking too hard about what I’m doing wrong, I’ll tell you. I’m kick my feet up to my butt, bend my knees, swing my arms like wild windmills. Do I jump over the rope? Obviously. Can I do it multiple times in a row? Of course! Am I putting way too much effort into what everyone else makes look like a simple task? You have no idea.
I watched as the surrounding men in the gym subtly relocated away from my wildly swinging rope, with a look of fear and amazement in their eyes, as if to say, “what is she doing,” and “I don’t want to die.” I don’t blame them. I would move away from my awkwardly, wild swinging rope too! Nothing about what I do makes sense, and it all seems dangerous.
I can color in the lines, and I can write my name. Kindergarten PE: Fail.
