I am not, nor have I ever been, an athlete. I tried hard to be. Really I did. It just never happened for me.

My parents signed me up for summer softball when I was 9. My coaches put me behind home plate as the catcher. Because this was very slow pitch, this was the only position where I couldn’t mess things up for the rest of the team. I struck out almost every single time I came up to bat. But my dad was persistent. He had me in the back yard practicing. I think the embarrassment of being the father of the “sure thing out getter” was more than he could stand.

Just in case this softball thing didn’t work out, for the next two summers in addition to softball I was also enrolled in the youth golf camp at the country club. I was the only girl, and while I showed slight natural talent in the game of golf, I lacked the interest in it.

Over the next few years my softball skills improved, but it was apparent that I would not be the next softball star. I gave up on softball and moved on to volleyball where I quickly failed miserably. In the end I played high school tennis where I eventually landed on the varsity team. Finally a victory for the athletically challenged.

You can imagine my surprise when my husband signed us both up for an adult summer softball league this summer. Suddenly all the feelings of inadequacy came pouring over me. Now it was Jason who had me in the yard playing catch and taking batting practice. He too did not want to be associated with the “sure thing out getter.” A couple weeks into the season I stopped hitting directly into double plays and was getting RBIs. I even got on base a couple of times. I am still the catcher in order to not mess things up, but I’m ok with that. Another small victory for the athletically challenged.

Making contact with the ball.

Jason and I before one of our softball games.