Since I can’t run, thanks to my second stress fracture, my friend suggested I take advantage of this break from athletics to pursue a more creative hobby. I already have cooking, so she suggested pottery.
And so it was done. We registered for our five-week pottery class at a local art school. We figured, even if we suck at it, we’ll have a good time doing it together and maybe even have a Patrick Swayze moment (r.i.p.).
Our first class was on Monday night. I took a pottery class back when I was in third grade (or around that time, it’s too far back to remember). I remember it being fun and my friends being jealous that my mom signed me up for pottery, while they were stuck doing boring activities.
When we walked in, our teacher was super excited to meet us. He’s an enthusiastic guy, which I like. He told us how how therapeutic pottery is and how anyone can make something. I thought, “Awesome, I need some therapy.”
Then my competitiveness kicked in as I saw some of my classmates grasp the concepts quicker than me. Therapy was out the door, and I was cursing and getting frustrated. Getting a piece of clay centered on spinning circle is hard!
After about two hours later I was finally getting the hang of it. One class down, four to go. My goal is to make one semi-decent looking piece of pottery. I know the artistic gene skipped me. But if I can’t work out, I might as well take this opportunity to explore other possible interests.
And if I continue to suck at pottery, well, my boot comes off next Wednesday and I’m back on the bike.
