I often think I hold the gold medal in self-doubt. I am so filled with “I can’t” that when I do, I usually pick apart what I’ve succeeded in doing. Lesa reminds me I’m not alone in the self-doubt arena. Perhaps all writers are stymied by this. But she also reminds me that there is beauty in taking on a challenge–and perhaps that’s reward enough–to meet the challenge, whether it be Zumba or writing.
Challenges are a funny thing. They push us to rise to our best selves. Help us to realize things about ourselves we never knew. Like, for example, that restarting Zumba after a five year hiatus makes you feel like a drunken sailor on a Saturday night. Somewhere between a hip swivel and a pelvic thrust, I thought about never coming back to class and finding some other form of cardio that didn’t make me look a completely uncoordinated fool.
Only then did I realize that I only like challenges when I am successful with the result. I remembered many years ago, my husband James encouraged me to take tennis lessons. He’d been playing and thought it would be a fun activity for us to share. It wasn’t. Hand eye coordinated sports—softball, volleyball, basketball—have never been my thing. In fact the only sports I’ve ever had excelled in were track. And…
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