A small blip on the radar of my childhood was taking ice skating lessons. I haven't been on the ice for years now. Decades, actually. I don't remember much of it. I probably couldn't even stand up on skates at this point.
The only things that really stuck were learning how to stop and learning how to fall properly. Two of the first lessons are the most important. If you can stop and fall without getting hurt, you're doing pretty well.
Putting on the brakes in time comes pretty naturally to me. I tend to anticipate fairly well and know when its time to stop before I plow into someone or something. Still, occasionally I find myself hitting a wall.
That's when the falling comes into play. Falling properly is an act of faith. It doesn't come naturally to me at all. No matter how much I practice, I still have to fight the urge to throw out my arms to brace myself even though I know it's better to just take it on the hip. Still, I keep falling. So I keep practicing, too. It may never come naturally, but it beats the alternative.
Life, with its series of walls and falls and unpredictable events presents me with ample opportunities to practice. Sometimes I'm grateful and offer up a sincere mantra of, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." Sometimes I want to scream, "Yeah, well fuck you, too!"
I've been known to do both. Either way, the practice always finds me. And for that, I will always say thank you and leave it at that.