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The First Time
They say you never forget your first time...and they're totally right. The other day at the pool, I was swimming laps (okay, A lap) with Noble and suddenly, I was a kindergartener again at the pool in Round Rock.
I remember, vividly, viscerally, the first time I quit.
It was the final day of swim lessons, and all I had to do was swim across the pool (the width, not the length). To this day, I remember what I felt like, moving through the water...I remember looking at the side, maybe 10 feet away, and KNOWING that I could make it...but for some reason, choosing to put my feet down and quit swimming. To this day, I don't know why I quit. But I do know this: quitting, like any other skill, gets easier with practice.
7th grade basketball tryouts: the lay-up was difficult for this uncoordinated girl. Rather than ask for help or try harder, I quit.
Soccer. Same thing. Quit--before tryouts that time, I was a pretty accomplished quitter by then.
Dance team, cheerleader? Didn't even try.
How many times have I been running and just decided to quit moving when it got hard? Can't even count, but I remember some of those times like it was yesterday.
Speaking of yesterday...the reason I remembered to write this post is that yesterday was yoga. I went on Tuesday, for the first time in forever. And I know I didn't really push myself, because I didn't feel it on Wednesday. Yesterday, I was tired. As we went into the first hard-ish pose, a few seconds in I thought, this is hard. I could just put my leg down and rest for a few seconds before we switch sides. And in that moment, I was back in the pool, putting my feet down. Quitting.
So I kept my leg up in the air, and did every pose with everything I had (which, frankly, wasn't much but it's enough). And today? Today I hurt. A LOT.
But I didn't quit. And you know what? I'm thinking not quitting is a skill that will get easier if I practice, too. Maybe 40 years from now, I'll look back at that yoga pose and remember it vividly as the day I quit...quitting.
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