(no subject)
Growing up, one of those things I could always be sure would happen come hell or high water, was having to run the mile in gym class in the fall, and again in the spring. I hated it.
Being the quintessential fat kid with messed up hair, glasses and braces I was always in the back of the pack. It was a hard fought victory for me to finish the mile before the integrated special needs students, the anorexic girl who didn't have enough energy to run, and the girl nicknamed the suicidal giant, because well, she was large and unstable.
Our gym teacher was really serious about the mile run, and establised a cut off time by which had to complete it, or else we would have to stay after school to run it again. Seriously.
Sometime around my sophmore year of high school I decided that I really didn't want the frustration and humiliation that came twice a year like clockwork. The mile run was actually only one part of the New York State physical fitness tests. We would get these stupid index cards to fill out our results for situps, pushups etc. They were dramatically official for gym class, with things like stamps and signatures. Anyway, we were under strict instruction to hand our cards in at the end of class to be reviewed by our teacher. Because our gym classes were held every other day, I figured realistically there was no way the teacher would sit and look at the results for hundreds of kids. I didn't turn mine in on situp and pushup day, and skipped class on "the mile" day. Very aware that I was not a jock, i fudged a number that wouldn't raise any suspicions given my height / weight ratio and my very apparent lack of effort.
I would hold on to the card until later in the day, or the next day, when I would tell the gym teacher that I must have been in the bathroom or at the drinking fountain when he collected the cards. I was nervous doing it, but it was better then running the mile. Our tests were in September and May, coupled with the fact my gym teacher had absolutely no idea who I was, and because I do believe he drank heavily, he never caught on that I always brought my card to him after the fact.
For two and a half years it worked. I graduated high school comfortable in the knowledge that I would never again have to run another mile in my life, and really never intended to.
I shared this story to contextualize last evening. For the first time in my entire life I ran two miles. I did so without stopping, and in the time it used to take me to run "the mile". Little victories are great. Two miles down, 24.2 left.
Being the quintessential fat kid with messed up hair, glasses and braces I was always in the back of the pack. It was a hard fought victory for me to finish the mile before the integrated special needs students, the anorexic girl who didn't have enough energy to run, and the girl nicknamed the suicidal giant, because well, she was large and unstable.
Our gym teacher was really serious about the mile run, and establised a cut off time by which had to complete it, or else we would have to stay after school to run it again. Seriously.
Sometime around my sophmore year of high school I decided that I really didn't want the frustration and humiliation that came twice a year like clockwork. The mile run was actually only one part of the New York State physical fitness tests. We would get these stupid index cards to fill out our results for situps, pushups etc. They were dramatically official for gym class, with things like stamps and signatures. Anyway, we were under strict instruction to hand our cards in at the end of class to be reviewed by our teacher. Because our gym classes were held every other day, I figured realistically there was no way the teacher would sit and look at the results for hundreds of kids. I didn't turn mine in on situp and pushup day, and skipped class on "the mile" day. Very aware that I was not a jock, i fudged a number that wouldn't raise any suspicions given my height / weight ratio and my very apparent lack of effort.
I would hold on to the card until later in the day, or the next day, when I would tell the gym teacher that I must have been in the bathroom or at the drinking fountain when he collected the cards. I was nervous doing it, but it was better then running the mile. Our tests were in September and May, coupled with the fact my gym teacher had absolutely no idea who I was, and because I do believe he drank heavily, he never caught on that I always brought my card to him after the fact.
For two and a half years it worked. I graduated high school comfortable in the knowledge that I would never again have to run another mile in my life, and really never intended to.
I shared this story to contextualize last evening. For the first time in my entire life I ran two miles. I did so without stopping, and in the time it used to take me to run "the mile". Little victories are great. Two miles down, 24.2 left.