Despite encounters with various physical activities throughout my childhood, I have never been what you'd call an "athlete."
My mom enrolled me in the requisite community ballet class when I was 3 years old. Without the blessing of natural talent, I enjoyed it nonetheless and ended up competing for several years with a local dance studio. When I reached high school and it was clear that my enthusiasm couldn't carry me any farther, I took my final bow.
In 7th grade, I joined the girls' basketball team. While the coach (more commonly known as our science teacher) was definitely awful, even Chuck Daly himself couldn't have coaxed a decent performance from me on the court. I opted for an early retirement when the season finally ended.
I also have vague memories of at least one summer spent on the synchronized swimming team at our town's swim club, but I'll do us all a favor and not flesh those out.
I was well aware of my lack of athletic prowess, but I was comfortable with it. I didn't particularly enjoy playing sports – especially team sports – so I felt it was probably for the best anyway. My brother was the one who had physical strength and hand-eye coordination, so I left all that to him. Just pass me a stack of novels or drop me at the mall with my friends and life felt complete.
Then somehow during my sophomore year of high school, my friend Sarah convinced me to join the track team. I remember recoiling in horror at the suggestion: running in circles for fun, what kind of sick person does that?! Maybe Sarah was very persuasive, maybe she caught me in a weak moment, or maybe I was thinking of how this might help my chances of getting into my top college. Whatever the case, next thing I knew, I was picking up my singlet from the coach.
I was not a fast runner by any means, but I was in good company as many other students seemed to have joined the team solely for socializing. This was before high schoolers had cell phones, much less social media, so we actually had to see our friends in person. And if you have ever been to a track meet, you know they are quite long with lots of time spent milling around waiting for your brief events, the perfect setting for gossiping and flirting and simply being outside again after a long Midwestern winter. I had a great time with my friends during that track season, and if I didn't necessarily enjoy the running part, at least I learned it wouldn't kill me.
As track was winding up, a couple of my friends encouraged me to try the cross country team next. Yes, there was more running, but they assured me it was a lot more fun than track. Why not? I thought at the time. What I didn't know is that it would become one of the best decisions I've ever made.
(Continued here.)
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