Volleyball will be the Death of Me

I don't know if I've told y'all this, but I'm not very athletic.

Actually, when I say "not very" I mean, you better watch out 'cuz this girl ain't got no skills...ya dig?

For many years it bothered me, but I've finally come to terms with my unathleticism, and have accepted my position in this cruel, very athletic world.

My position is usually on the side lines cheering the team on, or eating a hotdog...either way I'm usually content.

Example A:

I think in this particular situation I was eating yogurt, not a hotdog.  Just thought I'd clarify that...

Last night however, I decided to take my unathletic matters into my own hands and turn them around...for good!

Little did I know, that this would not be the case.

Some of my friends at my church invited everyone to come play volleyball (A sport that my school did not offer, therefore, I have not played.  Therefore, I don't know how to play.  Therefore, I am bad.  VERY bad.) and I accepted there offer thinking this was my chance to shine in the sport world!

I mean, it's volleyball it can't be all that hard right?

Right?

RIGHT?!

Nope...very wrong.

You see, I don't particularly like flying objects flying towards me...especially, when they are round, and hard, and probably have a estimated speed of 95 mph...and that's just estimated.

I wasn't going to give up though!

No matter how intimidated I was, I was going to spike that ball down someones throat.

(Did I mention I'm competitive?)

So as the ball came flying towards me, I knew this could be my only chance. I took that chance.

I hit the ball as hard as my feeble arms would let me towards the net, and as my wrist came in contact with the flying ball (with an estimated speed of 95 mph) I heard a loud pop.  My adrenaline was so high I didn't know if the pop was from my wrist smacking that ball back to kingdom come, or if it was from that ball breaking my feeble wrist in two.  Either way, I didn't care.  I had finally had my shot at athletic glory, and I was satisfied.

Satisfied that is, until I woke up this morning with a very sore wrist that hurst so much everytime I move it that I want to run home crying to my Mommy. Amen.

Peace, Love, & I've once again had to accept that I am not, and never will be Athletic.

Sweet T