While I suppose anyone can become an athlete, I’m mildly certain that there are people that just aren’t supposed to bother.
I guess I sorta have to scribble something about how I recognize that I don’t have an identifiable disability or severe physical limitation, and that my self-interested rants make me look obtuse and disconnected.
So, scribble scribble. Onward I go.
Throughout my painfully stunted athletic career I’ve found myself at the mercy of my limiting physique (is this where I get to slip in that I was voted Best Physique in High School? Not to be confused with Best Body. This was a title based on muscle mass…I think?). I just wasn’t designed to dive, jump, or shake, rattle, and roll! So yeah, I’ve had countless injuries, some small, some big.
But I still play. All the time. Whatever I can get my hands on. And because I tote around a filthy gym bag on one arm and a hand-crafted leather carryall on the other people are confused.
It’s really not that complicated: I’m just a gym rat wrapped up in fancy fabric.
