I have never been what a reasonable person would call "athletic." I have always hated that horrible ragged feeling in my chest after doing what my junior high basketball coach impishly called "sprints." I'm not a beautiful blusher. My cheeks flame red and blood pounds in my temples after way too little exertion. I can't seem to remember to keep my eye on the ball (a cardinal rule, I've been told) and my depth perception is "poor."
But I do know one thing.
I heart wallyball.
Wallyball is played four-on-four in a raquetball court. You can play off the walls. It is very hot and not very well ventilated.
I lurch and heave around the court. At times I swing my arms wildly. At times I cower and dodge the very object I am sworn to protect. But occasionally (very occasionally) I am in the right place at the right time with the right amount of warning. I hit the ball. Sometimes I score points. It's fun.
I play with a bunch of gracious people.