I'm going ice skating tonight.
I haven't been ice skating since 1991 or so.
I didn't know how to ice skate then. I don't expect that I miraculously learned how in the intervening years.
Here are other skills that in my three decades of intense physical sloth I also never picked up: roller skating, roller blading, snow skiing, snowboarding, water skiing, surfing, windsurfing, skateboarding, dirtbike riding, BMX riding, a decent baseball bat swing, the strength to throw a baseball out of the infield, the ability to throw a football spiral, the ability to dribble a basketball while moving, the ability to shoot a basket, ballroom dancing, line dancing, dancing with any kind of rhythm at all, archery, skeet shooting, biathlon, discus and hammer throwing, long jumping, high jumping, hurdle jumping, distance running, sprint running, javelin, horse riding, skin diving, SCUBA diving, skydiving (more than that one, very painful time), NASCAR, road rally racing, arm wrestling, Greco-Roman wrestling, WWE wrestling, dart throwing, axe-throwing, and dwarf-tossing.
Seriously-- unless it's riding a bicycle on level ground, swimming that leverages my hideous BMI number in order to float, or sex in a position that doesn't require more than three full minutes of sustained thrusting, I'm just about out of physical activities and skills.
So, tonight? Ice skating = bruises at a minimum, broken bones at worst. Should be fun. . .
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