My Life as an Athlete

I am not an athlete. I am so far from an athlete I can’t see the moon of athlete. My foray into the world of awkwardness and lethargic speed first began at age five. My mother, who is now referred to as Nana, signed me up for gymnastics at our local community center. As the youngest of four children I was chomping at the bit to be dropped off somewhere like the rest of my sisters. Hanging out in the very back of that station wagon with the dog, while everyone else was going to softball, dance, clarinet, cheerleading, etc., was getting old. I needed an outlet. In all honesty, Nana probably just wanted a minute by her own damn self.

I loved the first day of gymnastics. There were other little girls, bouncy mats, and I got to wear my sister Cindy’s old outfit that I always liked. After a few classes the instructors pulled Nana aside and told her I might be better suited for a class that didn’t involve movement…or balance. Nana passed this suggestion on to me.

I put my foot down and told her I liked gymnastics and I was going back. No discussion. Then I took my peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich on white bread and went outside to play in the mud. As you can see I have always had a problem with self confidence.

On the final day of gymnastics we had a small recital. I also remember what I wore that day. It was a little pair of yellow shorts with a white shirt that had bumblebees on it. The shoulders had little bows on the top. Even at that young age I knew my butt looked good in those shorts. I wore the fool outta those shorts. Again, low self confidence.

The parents came and we had kool aide and cookies while we showed off all which we had learned. I was so excited I think I tee-teed a little in my shorts. I did a front roll. That was it. A front roll. Albeit a bad-assed front roll, but still just a front roll. No back roll, no cartwheel, no round off, not even a backbend. I didn’t care that every other girl continued to show off for another thirty minutes. I sat on the side with Nana and ate cookies.

When we got home Nana let me sit in her bed and eat popcorn and drink a real Coke. Not one of those pansy-assed fake Cokes she told me was real, but a Coke in a bottle!

When I finished my first half marathon all I could think about was that memory. Only five people finished after me and over 100 finished before me. I was so excited I think I tee-teed a little in my shorts. I didn’t care that my other girlfriends were checking the results to see who had finished the fastest. I went home and sat in my bed, ate popcorn, and drank a real coke. Not one of those pansy-assed Coke Zeros I try to tell myself is real, but a Coke in a red can.

I hope you have enjoyed this post, and you feel a little better about yourself.