I’ve never made a habit of jumping rope in public. My heart race increases when I remember the feeling of waiting to jump in to the ropes in double dutch.
I remember rocking back and forth, watching the rounds tick past and my friend’s facial expressions go from encouraging to embarrassed to annoyed.
What exactly was I waiting for?
The ropes didn’t get slower or lighter as the seconds pass. The odds of failure didn’t decrease. I definitely didn’t get any better watching the ropes pass.
The longer you wait the less fun it gets.
So why wait?
I always wanted to be the kind of person who kept in straight away.
The last time I checked in here, I had jumped into the ropes. I jumped into a Masters in counseling after a friend applied and reassured me that it was easier and less terrifying than I expected.
And now I’m jumping rope for the foreseeable future, spending two nights in classes with *gasp* homework.
I’m happy to be in the game. I love school. I even love homework.
Indecisive people and procrastinators may understand the complicated delight in reviving a syllabus with weekly deadlines.
I’m remembering now how hard it is at first do or think about anything else while you’re jumping that incessant beat.
With practice, though, it becomes just another step.