New Years Resoluting

A few years back, when the big 3-0 seemed way, way, way off I made a list: "Thirty Things to do Before I Turn Thirty." It included a few typical single girl things (i.e. 'kiss an Asian guy'), at least one thing that'll never happen ('watch the Yankees play at Yankee Stadium'). And now that I'm just a little less than a year and a half from turning 30, quite a few "what the hell was my 24-year-old self thinking?" things.

Included amongst these?

Join a gym and actually take a class!

The joining of the gym isn't a problem. I love gyms. I've belonged to several of them. I love that I can hop on a treadmill or eliptical or a whatever, pop my headphones on, and cardio away while I'm secretly stealing glances at the hotties on the weight machines.

The whole "actually take a class" thing is where my problem lies.

Me + Classes that involve athleticism and/or coordinatio = Disaster.

The last time I took a class of any variety was Spring Break of 1999. I was a freshman in college, almost 19 years old, and on my first vacation that did not include either my parents or a church youth minister. I had done all the grown up things. Saved the money for the trip myself, requested time off for work, packed my own suitcase, the whole nine.

The trip was five days in Leadville, Colorado, scaling the slopes of Ski Cooper.

It seemed like a good idea when I agreed to go.

Seemed being the key word.

I had never skied before and everyone weighed in that "Ski School" would be a really great idea. So I signed up. There were ten or twelve of us on the trip together and only one other who had never skied before. He was a guy named Rob, a guy who would later pretend he had no idea who I was when I became the Ski School Retard. I'm pretty sure I messed up his mack a time or two. "Hey, is that girl . . . the one who fell down again with your group?"

Poor Rob.

And poor me!

Ski School was one humiliation after another. Five year old children and 80 year old grandmas in that class did better than I did. I spent the entire hour or so of it either on my ass or sliding backward downhill, my face crimson with embarrassment, and thinking that all I really wanted to do was head to the lodge for some hot chocolate (spiked hot chocolate).

So, yeah, classes and I don't do too well.

It's not just ski school either. I can remember some particuarly cringe-worthy moments playing badmitton in high school PE. I absolutely love sports, but I'm more of an onlooker than an active participant.

But, yesterday in the mail I got a flyer from our community's recreation center. It ran down a list of all the classes and two or three popped out at me. Pilates . . . could be interesting. Spinning . . . always wanted to try that. Kickboxing . . . Hell yeah!

So maybe it's time to swallow my pride, make a New Year's resolution, and scratch something off that 30 Things list . . .