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In my opinion the world is divided into two kinds of people: the ones that love sports and the ones that don’t. Guess which group I tend to identify with. It’s true, I most heartily dislike any form of physical activity. In high school P.E. was my least favourite subject (yes, I even enjoyed my wood shop class more). I don’t climb, I can’t jump and I honestly believe that all ball games were designed for one purpose only – to torture and humiliate me.

This is all the more surprising because my brother, my sister and my dad are all very sporty.  You could say it “runs” in the family. They hike, they play basketball and they go cycling like the Winslow family in Family Matters (check the theme-song if you don’t believe me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kYvNiKwWvhk ). Crazy people, if you ask me. I have never shared that blind enthusiasm for sports, which at times still makes me suspect that I might have been adopted. Naturally, I have seen my birth certificate, but you know, those things can be bought.

My body simply doesn’t adopt well to movement. That’s fine, because over the years I have accepted myself for what I am –  calamity on legs. This is not a joke. If you ever have the misfortune of finding yourselves near what I call “my 4 feet disaster zone”, you’ll probably enjoy quite a spectacle. Just the other day I walked into a fire hydrant. Again. The eye-witnesses are unable to agree on the cause of this public humiliation. Few of them think that possibly the vivid colour of the object confused me, while the majority is of the opinion that I’m just stupid. Who is to say? My point is, I make Newton’s 3rd law of motion look like a child’s play.

That looks painful.

(Photo source: http://innerlimits.blogspot.com/2006/05/stream-of-crapciousness.html)

Don’t even get me started on team sports. It’s bad enough when one has to show one’s lack of skills individually, but in front of an entire collective it is simply mortifying. Not to mention they all have balls, the activities that is, not the athletes. In elementary school we played Dodgeball during each lunch break. Please picture this, I was the awkward kid with glasses, braces and bad hair. My school years seemed like a cruel joke to me even without the playground frolicking. Therefore, it still puzzles me that anyone would invent an activity whose “goal” (funnily enough) is to hit a person with a heavy object. The ten-year-old me was horror-struck.

Things didn’t change much even when I started high school. I had to play volleyball. Three times a week, ten moths a year.  Till this day, I cannot look at a net without experiencing severe convulsions in my right hand. It was elementary school all over again. I couldn’t hit the ball right. My underhand serve was pathetic (and I’m being nice here). On several occasions I was so frightened that even though I saw the ball coming towards me, I couldn’t move. Consequently, I received more hits than Rihanna’s songs on Youtube.

 I failed the exercise test. They asked me to run. I said no. Running – wrong unless professionally or as a child.

Miranda Hart

The cycle of humiliation didn’t stop at university either. Each person had to sign up for a P.E. class. After careful consideration I chose fitness. I mostly got through those interminable lessons by sitting on an abdominal machine (they had surprisingly comfortable seats) till the mellifluous sound of the bell announced “end-of-class”. That doesn’t mean I didn’t do any workout. Before we were allowed to go our separate ways, we ALL had to participate in a 25-minute stretching session. It was so embarrassing that it deserves a post of its own. I will only say this. I bend for no one, least of all a random gym teacher. A girl must draw a line at something, right?

My expression when I was told I had to play voleyball recreationally.

(Photo source: http://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/0/17495940)

As you can see, I’m not big on exercise (either as a spectator or as a participant). For the life of me I cannot figure out the attraction of watching sports on the telly. Take Formula One for example, it’s just driving really fast in circles. I sit down and I get nervous after 2 minutes. It’s like watching the same weather forecast fifty or sixty times in a row with the weather girl occasionally changing her hair accessories. It’s maddening. Even basketball doesn’t escape my anti-sport rant. The only basketball I ever suffered to watch was on One Tree Hill. Scott brothers just made it look cool.

All in all, exercise is bad for me. (I have evidence.) It’s an evolutionary fact of life. Penguins can’t fly and I can’t run. So, I welcome with open arms those who are of a similar “bend” of mind. I don’t say all forms of physical activity represent a health hazard. I just want you to know that it is OK not to like sports. It’s our human right. Now do what you like, the ball is in your court.

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