Why Does She Run Like That?

             When my daughter was little, we signed her up for softball.  Like me, she is coordination-challenged.  As we watched her circle the bases one day, my husband mused aloud, “Why does she run like that?”  When the time came for the Mother-Daughter game in May, I did my part.  When I ran in from the field, my husband said, “Ohhhh, I understand now.” 

            I am blessed with height and long legs but not with any of the athletic prowess my shape would suggest.  In High School, my best friend and I frequently passed free periods in the athletic office attached to the boy’s locker room.  (Odd.  But very convenient for checking out boys as they entered.)  One gym teacher was always suggesting I try out for one team or another.  Obviously, he never had me as a student.  He would have realized I was just a ringer for an actual athletic person.  He kept urging me to try out for Judo or Girl’s Basketball.  If I had just made him watch me run down the hall, he would’ve given up quicker.

            Every year, we were forced to take part in the President’s Physical Fitness Challenge.  The true challenge for me was to avoid cardiac arrest.  (And failing Gym.)  Since my HS didn’t have it’s own fields or track, the mile was measured in laps around my school and the school behind us.  Thank goodness.  I would run down the straightaway between the schools where the teachers were and then walk around the back gasping like a dying fish. Then run back down the driveway.  As if the teachers really believed I was running the entire time!  (Like it took me so long because… I was jogging in place where they couldn’t see me?) At least it made me feel better. 

            It was my least favorite time of the year in my least favorite class.  It was total humiliation.   I don’t know if I was ever the last student to finish but I am sure it was close.  After that awful performance on our non-track, we had to do exciting feats of athleticism in the gym.  Pair up and see how many pushups you could do in one minute.  (I could do one if my teammate was generous and counted me falling on her thumb as one pushup.) I could do zero chin-ups.  At least I could do jumping jacks.  (And without having to pee the way I do now!)  I don’t remember what else was required but I am sure I performed just as abysmally on all of them. 

            I am just not exertion inclined.  We have evolved to the point that we don’t have to outrun dangerous animals.  What other reason is there to run? Once I outgrew gym classes, I didn’t have to think about how terribly uncoordinated and inactive I was.  Until now.  Since joining the gym, it’s like HS all over again.  People gracefully moving around me while I lumber along like a drunken Chewbacca.  (I do shave; I am referring to his not so elegant movements.)

            Wait until you hear about me on the treadmill, yikes….