Say it with me...

The skipping rope!

Hayi man. What made you think I know anything about Xhosa phonetics? Hayi hayi. Lol!

But isn’t the feeling of skipping a rope incredible? 

That rush before you jump.

You watch the cord as other people turn it at either end. 

You match your internal pace with the rope, adjust your stance, bounce on the side and prepare your feet for push-off.

And at the right time, when you are ready, you jump right in.

You kept pace, adjusted as you jumped, and even stamped your flair to it.

Even when you tripped and fell, you went right back to it.

All self-managed decisions.

You’ve done this since childhood. It’s so thrilling you overlooked the numerous micro-adjustments you made with each turn.

You didn’t realise how great you were at making tiny high-speed assessments and tweaks every time you joined the game.

Even with your body ageing and things sliding south, when the challenge of skipping rope arises, you go for it. Your heart yearns for it. Instinctively, hands securing your chest this time, you jump anyway.

Maybe you trip at first, but on the second/third try, you're right back on the playground.

Have you ever wondered why you got up and jumped right back in as soon as Sally’s turn was done? Did you notice that your confidence was never in the rope or those turning it but in your ability to make good decisions and recover well?

So, who cut in on you along the way and made you feel incapable? Why are you afraid to release the project you’ve been carrying around in that hidden place? 

Yes, I agree things have changed over the years, but so have you.

The kids are grown, are at school, or have left the house; either way, it’s your turn.

You know it’s ready. You’ve changed the font too many times.

You’ve run that process in your head over and over again.

You know you’re ready.

Besides, you can revise as you go.

Aww, friend. You fell and cut your lip. I get it but get up.

Too many watched you fall. That’s ok. Stand.

Go again.

Bruised, yes, but your decision-making abilities are intact. 

Get up right where you fell, adjust your pace and go again. 

You can still course-correct, but it only works if you keep going.

You've buried your genius long enough. 

Hang on to your chest if you must, but it's time to jump back in.