Alright, Eleanor.

"Do one thing every day that scares you." - Eleanor Roosevelt

Me, just after a skating-induced nervous breakdown. Scary stuff, people!

 

Lately, I've been taking this advice to heart. Sometimes I worry you guys think of me as a crazed adrenaline junky, a girl who will try anything once. I don't want to disappoint you, but I'm not. In fact, I usually live somewhere between utter terror of injury and cautious joy at physical adventure through exertion.

I worry about falling over as I climb tough hills. I'm concerned I might fall down stairs, especially slippery ones. As I get older, I find myself becoming an obsessively cautious driver, cyclist, athlete, mom, human. They idea of broken bones or sprains are nearly unbearable... what would I do with myself?

On the other side of that fear is usually something exhilarating and fun. I realize that. It's why I push through fear on the bike, and in the rest of my life. That burst of joy is what keeps our wheels turning daily, as we seek happiness through action.

With the search for exhilarating happiness in mind, I've recently taken up a new past time: roller skating.

Skating was never high on my priority list as a child. My parents never took me skating, and the handful of times I went as an older child -- they didn't call us tweens then -- resulted in feelings I can only describe as pain and self-loathing. I was chubby and clumsy, and the act of putting wheels underneath my feet only highlighted that fact. I couldn't wrap my head around how people could possibly glide along the floor so gracefully.

Flash forward around twenty years. Late bloomer me is strong, healthy, and increasingly bilaterally coordinated (thanks, cycling!), and (here's the kicker) I have a small child who wants to learn to skate. The Husband used to be an aggressive inline skater, so he's an ace on eight wheels, which is good since one of us needs to help the Hobbes-it. We started going to the skating rink a few weeks ago. I just sat on the benches, skateless, the first time. The next time, my friend's words resounded in my head, her encouragement that I would regret not trying it again. I slipped my feet in, and began to shuffle around like a newborn foal. I didn't fall that night, but never left the carpeted area, either. The following time, I made it onto the floor after shedding a few tears in the gaming area at how scary it felt. I keep making improvements each time we go... I like that feeling. I'm also growing to enjoy the feeling of rolling around the floor more than I ever thought I would.

I still wouldn't say I like or enjoy skating. That's a stretch. What I do like is a sense of accomplishment and the boost of confidence that comes with it. There's also an added kick in the pants when you're the lone adult out on the floor barely moving around the edge, clinging to the walls: you can't take yourself too seriously.

And then I fell tonight, and I realized falling wasn't so bad anyway. That's what Eleanor meant when she said to try something that scares you, that in attempting that fearful thing, you'd find out it wasn't so bad as you had expected, and learn to live presently and wholly. That's something I can feel good about as I fall and get back up. I'll continue my physical expedition to the happy and joyful.