Saturday started crabby - not in my bed, friend "D" waiting for me to get up and go xc skiing, and all I wanted to do was roll over and sleep. Forced myself up, drank the big bowl of double latte D had ready for me, dressed in layers and headed out the door.
Arrived at the ski center to howling winds - Mt. Washington-esque. Misery. Pulled on my windstopper jacket, slapped my skis on and headed out, fumbling with my heart rate monitor and balaclava all while trying to keep moving so D wouldn't be delayed getting out of the wind into the shelter of the trees. Hate skiing. Why do I do this? I could be in bed. grrr. Why do I always say yes to these weekends away when I know I'd rather be at home?
Finally got moving, warmed up, getting in a groove. D made some form suggestions. I figured as long as I was out there, I may as well try what she said. Shifted my hips, changed my arm posture, and - whoa - I'm moving, MOVING! For the first time ever I felt an actual glide on my skis! I thought it was a myth - something athletic people lorded over me that I would never be able to do. Glide, glide - wow! It even works uphill! Genius. I love this!
If I had a point it would be something about pushing yourself through the rough patches, not lying in bed refusing to try to improve something you're bad at, and making an effort to listen to advice. I am rarely able to do this myself, and definitely would have stayed in bed Saturday morning, given the choice. I'm lucky to have friends who put up with grumpy, cranky, I don't wanna Karen and help me get through those patches. Why do they do it? I have no idea. E says it's because I sometimes make funny comments when I'm crabby, so apparently my misery is not so miserable to others.
What's my point? I am in another rough patch writing, getting frustrated, and trying to force myself through it. grrr. Where's the freaking *click* already??