Speaking to my mother briefly last night about that last blog post ("I think you're too late for this Olympics") reminded me of something from childhood that explains ALL when it comes to my lack of running ability.
When I was little, I couldn't jump.
Not kidding. I couldn't. I had no bounce. I used to stand on the edge of the rug in this sort of skiiers crouch, bent at the knees, swaying back and forth, down and up, swinging my arms, tensed to spring my little body right off that rug and into the stratosphere. And, inevitably, all that effort would end in one thudding step forward. I had no jump.
Running? HA! I've never stood a chance.
PS Maybe THIS is why I fell in love with basketball (as a spectator, not a participant) so easily? Those boys can fly!