Gymnastics.

I miss gymnastics really badly, despite the fact I wasn't very good. If I could lose 30 lbs, I might just be able to get back into it, but I doubt it. I still want to though. I miss the smell of the gym, and the chalk. And jumping into the foam pit, and flipping and running and cartwheeling. I miss the back handspring attempts and the very first time I succeded at a balk walkover--when the gym was in its old location on Wagner Road. I miss the swinging on the bars, the chalk going everywhere and getting on my clothes which made me mad at the time, but wouldn't bug me now. I even miss the rips, and the pain. And the elation when you landed something, when you did something right. I learned a pullover, and once I could do that, I did a back hip circle. And then I was going to learn a kip, but I quit. I got to green and quit. And I miss it. The air trak, and falling off it. All the little girls wanting to use me as a jungle gym and crawling all over me; which really pissed me off then. But it wouldn't now, it wouldn't now...Gymnastics used to be a big part of my life; along with other things like friends, etc. Like the time I thought I had too many friends. I didn't. I didn't worry about my weight then, but now that I barely get any exercise, I'm sort of adding on the pounds. I want to get up and run, but I feel like crap. I could probably go for a good pair of running shoes right now. Instead, I sit in my basement and listen to sad songs over and over while I cry about things that can't be. It's pathetic really, but who am I to change it? I wouldn't do a good job anyway, most likely.
It's been awhile since the last time I went all out.
Or really acted like me.
Meh, I suppose there's a reason.
Emotionally, I guess I'm still sort of like a gymnast--waiting to topple off the edge.
Sort of I'm still like one, minus the courage.