I've Never Been Called Athletic

It's true. My hand-eye coordination has always been good, but never in my life has someone complimented me for my physical prowess. 

Example:  Like most children, I took swimming lessons when I was young.  After three summers of lessons that all resulted unsuccessful attempts at passing onto the next level, the instructor told my mother, "Well, if she ends up in the water she won't drown... I think that's the best we can hope for."

That is all you really need from childhood swimming lessons... but it's also the least successful you can be. I mean, hearing her assessment of my swimming ability is the equivalent of, "There is a liquid that covers 2/3 of our planet. She has enough skill that she most likely won't die if dropped in it, but she'll never be good at navigating it in the way the rest of is are." Brutal honesty at its best.

I tell you this not to bemoan my childhood swimming traumas, but because this week I encountered my other childhood nemesis: skiing.  I took my first skiing lesson in over 15 years today. I can still pizza & French fry like a pro, but have now added parallel turns to my repertoire.  They're still rough,  but by the end of the day the instructor agreed that if I were randomly dropped on a hill with skis on my feet and poles in my hand that I could navigate down relatively... okay.   (i.e.,  I won't die, but it's not something I'm going to excel at.) I don't disagree. This sport requires a simple thing I lack - the proper alignment of one's hips, knees, and feet. As someone who was born duckfooted, this will never be something that is easy for me. So tomorrow I will sip hot chocolate and enjoy the beautiful view from the top of Whistler mountain, content in the knowledge that if absolutely necessary I could hobble my way down and likely not kill myself.

Though that's still the last resort.

Shout out to my friend Susan for the use of her ski gear. She had this novice looking like a pro!