We Went Bowling

We went bowling the other day. The weather wasn't ideal for being outside, so we went to the bowling alley (there was also an arcade, laser tag, a restaurant, and a bar). 

I enjoyed bowling back in the day. I remember going bowling a couple times with my family, and I went with my friends at least a few times when I was in high school. It was fun. I was never actually very good, and never cared that I wasn't. No, that's not true. I wished that I was good, but not enough to even want to think about spending a bunch of time getting good. I was good enough to almost always throw at least one strike every ten frames, and good enough to bowl 185 this one time. 

I always felt like my technique was decent, that I was in control of how I moved, where I stepped, and how aggressively I sent the ball down the lane. We went bowling once fairly soon after I got out of the hospital. I was ridiculously weak, had really bad balance, and was nowhere close to being comfortable with the new way my legs moved. So I used that ramp-thing that little kids use. But the other day I didn't use that ramp-thing. 

I bowled all on my own, assuming (without thinking about it) that I would be able to bowl just like I had done when I was young. Except when I took the first approach I was at least a foot and a half too far back. So I started my approach a little forward of where I always used to. And then I fell down. Twice. 

And I realized that I'm not able to bowl like I used to, My approach was much shorter than it used to be, my footwork was awkward and halting, and my arm swing was uncertain. So I had to figure out how to be better. So I slowed down, picked up a lighter ball, focused on the placement of my feet and my arm swing, and tried to replicate what I had been able to do before the accident. 

After a few frames that were mentally exhausting because I was focusing so much energy on which muscles move in which ways, I bowled a strike! I was briefly excited. But obviously I can't be satisfied with one singular strike for more than a couple seconds. So immediately after I bowled a strike I thought, "Well, if I can bowl one strike, then I can bowl two." So I did. 

After the second strike I thought, "Cool. Also, I've never bowled a Turkey (three strikes in a row). I wonder if there's any way under heaven that I would be able to bowl another strike right now." And I did. 

First ever Turkey. On the same day that I was struggling because I can't bowl like I used to be able to. 

So once again I was face to face with the reality that I'm physically different after the accident than I was before. And also I was confronted with the truth that I actually am able to work with or through my altered physicality to do new things, or to do old things in new ways. 

Which means, I suppose, that I'll continue trying to get better and stronger and more physically adept at whatever I try to do.