Whatever synapse is supposed to fire between my feet and brain to do the elliptical at the gym still isn’t firing like it’s supposed to. Of course I never attempted the elliptical before I had a head injury, so it may be that I’m just really that uncoordinated.
I try to tell myself that we all have different abilities, and it’s okay that I can’t do this as well as – well, everybody else who seems to get on it. But it made me feel good last week when this old man shuffled in like Tim Conway and could only do level one.
I’m on level six.
You see, it’s rare that I ever feel ahead of anyone at the gym.
It’s getting easier, but I still feel like I don’t belong there. I feel so out of place every time I go. Like I can’t do anything there as well as the others.
And yet I know it’s good for me.
I hate doing things that don’t come easily to me. Things that I’ve had to start learning later in life, things that I didn’t grow up doing. I’d much rather be in an environment where what we do there comes naturally to me. Like I’ve been doing it all my life. Like I felt at school. Like I feel at church. Or any place that sells hamburgers.
Like I belong there.
The thing is, I belong in the gym, too. Because it’s good for me. It’s necessary for me to be healthy, to be whole.
Makes me wonder how many kids came in my classroom every day feeling like they didn’t belong. Like they didn’t fit in. Like they would never be as good as the person in the desk next to theirs.
And I wonder how many people slipped in the back yesterday because they knew they didn’t fit in either. Or how many simply didn’t go at all.
Most of those people at the gym don’t even realize I feel out of place there.
Some of them are so comfortable there that they just don’t think.
Some of them feel just as lost as I do.