I don’t mean to deceive. It’s not my fault if people assume that I’m athletic. I certainly don’t encourage this. I never discuss sports, my scores, my best game ever. Not even how the team I was on always won at Color War. (That would really be deceitful, since I never went to camp.)
So I figure it must have something to do with my appearance. Maybe it’s my broad shoulders, my long arms and legs, my straight posture. And perhaps the fact that I used to be tall, at least until my spine began celebrating more birthdays than I have.
The funny thing is, I never thought about athleticism one way or the other until I was in my thirties and tried to learn tennis. (Is “athleticism” a word, or have I just elevated “athletics” to the status of a religion or a philosophy?) For the first time, I was made aware that there was actually a right way and a wrong way to achieve a result in a sport. My inability to rise above a minimal level of competence made it quite apparent that I was going the wrong way.