Sport . . . for this Art Student?
Who would have thought eh? You may be surprised that I was once a very sporty individual despite the audible crackling of my spine. This week I am abruptly reminded of the fact that I move a lot less than I once did. What went wrong? I suppose nothing I didn’t know. I knew I was destined to sketch hunched over a desk when I signed to my degree four years ago. What I didn’t really consider was how little sport I would do in those following four years. You only realise what you’ve lost when it’s gone. For example, I realised I can’t even touch my toes when I was once able to grand battement my leg up to my nose each week in ballet.
I wouldn’t exchange the skills I’ve learned drawing and designing however, and absolutely wouldn’t like to relive the beep test. Forgot the beep test? I doubt you’ve forgotten that ominous and torturous beep and the subsequent fear of dropping out first. It would materialise some random Wednesday to torture us. I am yet to meet someone that actually enjoyed that damn awful test. If you did, why? I will not speak any more about that trauma.
In high school we had a routine, go to school, go to extracurricular activities, and then go home. I was lucky to play netball, swim, dance, and even ski during the winter. Since moving out and studying, this routine has changed dramatically.
Nowadays, the closest I get to sport of any kind is the race to finish ever single one of those papers I’ve overcommitted to. Can you count dancing at the rave as a sport? Feels like one. Or even running late to work on a Sunday morning? Sport Saturday for me has transformed into work Saturdays and independent study. Not to mention that hike home with the weekly shop. I’d say speed walking home before your bag breaks under the weight of milk and instant noodles will get the heart rate up faster than cricket.
As a side note, I’ve never really understood cricket. I did however find the all-girls social cricket day quite fun, not that we really had much care for the rules. I rather enjoyed hitting the shit out of a ball. Watching cricket, however, has always been more boring than golf for me.
Speaking of golf . . . Now that’s a sport I’ve always been properly shit at. Don’t get me wrong, I love mini golf. I’m still crap but at least I can watch my ball go up a gondola and zip down a miniature mountain. Granted, once it took me upwards of 20 strokes to get that bloody ball in the hole.
Back in the first years of high school, I thought that it was crazy how little everyday sport I did. What would year 9 me say now? In primary school, there was no day I wouldn’t play outside, running like a headless chicken. Fun fact about me, I would often unicycle during breaks. Yes, I was super cool. Before you think I am a complete clown we had a set time everyone in the year was able to learn. We even learned how to juggle; in hindsight I think they were training us for the circus.
I digress, if you like me have found yourself outside the realm of sport in your early adulting life, I’ve got some suggestions. Before you pull me up for not actually following my own advice, I did join social netball two weeks ago. A bit of backstory; netball was my favourite sport growing up. I’ve rolled my ankle more times than I can count. I played defence, makes sense as I’m a terrible shot, so GA and GS were out the picture. Nevertheless, the first game of social netball pointed out that despite the fact I was an A-team member back in the day, I wouldn’t make the team now. Who would have thought? Not to mention I was sore all over for a good day. That day made me curse my flat for all its stairs.
Still, social sport is a good idea, it’s a bit of fun, no pressure about winning or losing. No training necessary and no over the top parents yelling from the side line.
Alternatively, the gym is a good place to start for some much-needed exercise. I, however, found that unbearably boring. I prefer yoga. Yoga is no joke. As a former ballerina, I was reminded how difficult it is to stand on one leg. I recall my first yoga class being once during P.E. in high school. I always thought yoga was calming and relaxing. Not to say it isn’t, however, on this occasion our instructor at the school was far from zen. It’s probably because none of us were all that good at maintaining our seriousness, much less the poses. Ironic really, I think he regretted ever agreeing to teach that class. I’m not sure whose bright idea it was to ever think that a group of teenagers would be able to do poses like upward dog without laughing. Or saying, ‘what’s up, dog?’. Guilty.
Still, I suppose moving is necessary. Don’t let your phone’s step count bully you. Or how about this: When you’re hunched over your desk drawing or whatever as a studious artist, remind yourself that you look like a piece of macaroni. Check that posture at the very least.
