Monday, December 15, 2008

Did you know I used to be a track star?

I was. Or at least, in my mind I was. Okay, not even in my own mind, but I did run track.

I was pretty good at it too. As long as it was a short distance. And it wasn't too hot out. Or too cold. Or raining............Remember my earlier reference to brattiness? Well, I was a total brat about this too. My coach went through a phase where he was sure I should run the 440, or the hurdles. I hated both of those. (I'm embarrassed to admit this, but his determination that I would do these 2 events led me to not sign up for track the next season. Just being honest here. Told you I was/am a brat.)

The 440? Too long. It made me tired and required too much effort....Like effort to the degree of puking after each race. Didn't fit with my way of thinking at all. Remember me saying I like things to come easily to me? This did not fit that bill at all.

The hurdles? Too scary. I'm 5'7 with long legs. I liked to run (short distances)....Hurdles seemed like the natural progression, I'm sure. In this case, I tried....Really I did. I would run as hard as I could up to the hurdle....then come to a screeching halt, or run around it. This was, fortunately in practice, so he never made me do these at an actual meet. What was so embarrassing was there was this girl who was 5 inches shorter than me, and she ran them no problem. Still, I couldn't conquer the fear of the hurdle. I'd seen way too many girls with half the skin shredded off of their legs from missing/getting a foot caught in the hurdle. That was just way too risky for me.

Now, what I loved to run was the 100 yard dash and the 220. Right up my ally. Full speed ahead. No self control (aka pacing yourself) just flat out run it and you're done. Then, I could sit and chat with my friends during the rest of the meet....You can see the appeal these races held for me.

Are you wondering what inspired this post? I know you are...

I had to buy my girls some sweat pants today. You know it's really important that those things fit. And girls sweat pants do not have a draw string in them. What's up with that? So, I finally resigned myself to buying them boys pants. Don't tell them, and they'll never know. As I was cinching up Bookworm's pants on her minuscule waist, I had a flashback....And Dear Reader, it was not a pleasant memory...In fact it's quite embarrassing....

I decided it had to be shared with bloggerland.

I used to run on a relay team. I was the 4th leg of said team. The only way you lost your spot on the team, was to a challenge. On Monday morning anyone on the track team could challenge you for your spot. We had to race the 220, and the winner either kept their spot on the team, or was replaced.

This lovely spring morning started out like any other...pleasant, full of beauty, me laughing it up with my friends, and chatting....Until I got to gym. And realized I forgot my gym clothes. And subsequently was informed that Mandy was challenging my spot on the relay team. What? Challenge me? I was totally unconcerned about my ability to beat Mandy in the challenge. I was pretty sure I would smoke her like a big cigar.....Until I remembered that I forgot my gym clothes...And regular clothes were not allowed.....What was I going to do?

Well, luckily, Ivana had an extra pair of sweats....That happened to be her mother's....That was missing the drawstring.....Ivana was generous enough to loan me these sweats.... Aaah, the generosity of teenage girls....Or maybe not.

You see, these pants would in no way shape or form stay up. And I had to run in them. In a race. As hard as I could. No excuses. No putting it off until tomorrow...You're challenged, you do it today. At least I assume that was the deal. I don't actually remember asking the coach to let me wait a day, or even explaining the clothes situation.

So, we assume our positions. The coach gives the signal and.....We're off! Running down the track, around the corner, and, and,....and....... my pants are falling off! Yikes! I'm running and holding onto my pants as best I can! Oh no! I'm losing! To Mandy, the girl I was going to smoke like a big cigar! All my visions of grandeur are vaporizing in her trail of smoke as she LEAVES ME BEHIND! And I try to not show my BEHIND to the entire girls track team! I'm grasping my pants, and running. I hiked them up extra high, and took off with a final burst of speed, hoping that they'll stay up until the end of my race. The cool air on my backside notifies me that, no indeed, my pants will not stay up with this final sprint.....(Dear Reader, I seem to recall that I was wearing day-of-the-week panties, and it was the wrong day! The horror of the entire experience still haunts me.)

I'm sure you can deduce, gentle reader, that I did not win my challenge. I lost my spot on the relay team that week. I can still remember the sick feeling of disappointment...With myself...with my supposed friend who convinced Mandy to challenge me for my spot....With Ivana for not loaning me a pair of sweats that would fit....With my coach for not feeling sorry for my bratty self, and calling the race a bust (actually he laughed at me, but who could blame him? I'm sure that race could have one millions on video)....

Truly I was devastated......

Truly devastated as only a teenage girl could be....

I'm a total loser, and the one sport I could actually do well has now failed me (BTW, I was never the star of any sport....average at best, mediocre at worst).

I would never get over this! NEVER!!!

Until the next Monday, when I remembered my gym clothes, challenged Mandy the Menace to a rematch and.......

smoked her like a big cigar....

Dear Reader, I just read this post, and am thoroughly disgusted with myself. Truly, I was a brat. I am so tempted to rewrite it in a light that makes me look less bratty....But honesty compels me to leave it as is....And it really is more entertaining this way. So, I'll take it on the chin. Just be gentle with me, and remember, this was long, LONG ago (7th grade, I think).... Any reminders of current bratty attitudes will not be appreciated or needed. Thank you, and God bless you for tolerating me for this long....I don't know how you do it!

No comments: