Even as a young teenager, I was horribly out of shape.
In high school, I had the bright idea of joining the girls' cross country team. During the first practice, the coach said that we would warm-up by running a mile.
By the time a fourth of a mile went by, the other girls were little specks ahead of me and I was breathing for my life. I thought I was gonna die. There was no way I was going to be able to finish running the warm-up let alone a three-mile race. I hadn't even gotten half-way.
It was a blow to my pride and I was also confused. The year before, our gym class had to run the mile as a requirement. I had failed miserably then as well. I was quite aware that I was part of a very few who could not run the entire time. I didn't get it. I was young and healthy, so why was this so hard for me?
Of course, I quit the cross country team never to be seen or heard from again. I thought that was the end of it. I mentally shrugged and thought that there was no way it was gonna happen. I comforted myself with being a band geek and went on with my life.
Until next year.
When I found out that the mile was a requirement for gym yet again, I determined then and there not to be left in the dust again.
At that time, my family's house was right next to the church that my dad pastored. So, I made use of that fact.
Every day for I don't know how long, I would go over to the church and run 10 laps around the sanctuary. It was small sanctuary and I knew that I had to increase the number of laps when I was ready.
I put in my favorite Christian music in the church's music system, turned up the volume, and began my training.
As time went by, I slowly boosted the number of laps to 15 then to 20 and eventually went for 30 laps. It was my habit to stretch before running and not after. This was a mistake that I would later learn to regret.
After running, I would go downstairs to the kitchen and gulp down a glass of water. My face would be beat red and I would be breathing as if I had run a marathon, but I patted myself on the back for being able to climb this mountain.
I was at 30 laps around the sanctuary when it came time for the requirement in gym class.
It must have been a lousy day outside because our gym teacher announced that we would be running in the halls. Any other year, I would have been extremely horrified by this knowing that other kids would know my downfall, but this year, I was ready.
I took up my position with the other kids and began. It was amazing. I remember passing a girl that I admired running so slowly as to be walking with her face covered in sweat. I turned to smile at her yelling encouragement. I was quite pleased with myself. I was actually the one this time encouraging the ones who were having a difficult time.
When I crossed the finish line, I raised my arms and yelled, "Yes!" My gym teacher was talking to another teacher and barely gave me a glance.
I watched her closely to make sure she wrote down on her clipboard that I had indeed finished the mile and in much less time than usual. I wasn't even breathing hard. I stood there for a second wondering why I wasn't being fawned over and congratulated.
My gym teacher continued to talk to the other teacher. To come all this way...... it was definitely an anticlimactic moment.
I was determined, though. I was not going to let this moment get away from me. I inwardly celebrated and I'm sure everyone saw the smile on my face. Everyone was going to know I had run the mile, darn it.
Pride goeth before a fall, they say.
A couple days later, I came down with the worst pain I ever felt in my calves. I couldn't even walk. My gym teacher told me I had shin splints.
Didn't I know that I'm supposed to stretch before and especially AFTER running? Uh, no. No one told me that little piece of information.
So, that was the end of my mile running days.
In high school, I had the bright idea of joining the girls' cross country team. During the first practice, the coach said that we would warm-up by running a mile.
By the time a fourth of a mile went by, the other girls were little specks ahead of me and I was breathing for my life. I thought I was gonna die. There was no way I was going to be able to finish running the warm-up let alone a three-mile race. I hadn't even gotten half-way.
It was a blow to my pride and I was also confused. The year before, our gym class had to run the mile as a requirement. I had failed miserably then as well. I was quite aware that I was part of a very few who could not run the entire time. I didn't get it. I was young and healthy, so why was this so hard for me?
Of course, I quit the cross country team never to be seen or heard from again. I thought that was the end of it. I mentally shrugged and thought that there was no way it was gonna happen. I comforted myself with being a band geek and went on with my life.
Until next year.
When I found out that the mile was a requirement for gym yet again, I determined then and there not to be left in the dust again.
At that time, my family's house was right next to the church that my dad pastored. So, I made use of that fact.
Every day for I don't know how long, I would go over to the church and run 10 laps around the sanctuary. It was small sanctuary and I knew that I had to increase the number of laps when I was ready.
I put in my favorite Christian music in the church's music system, turned up the volume, and began my training.
As time went by, I slowly boosted the number of laps to 15 then to 20 and eventually went for 30 laps. It was my habit to stretch before running and not after. This was a mistake that I would later learn to regret.
After running, I would go downstairs to the kitchen and gulp down a glass of water. My face would be beat red and I would be breathing as if I had run a marathon, but I patted myself on the back for being able to climb this mountain.
I was at 30 laps around the sanctuary when it came time for the requirement in gym class.
It must have been a lousy day outside because our gym teacher announced that we would be running in the halls. Any other year, I would have been extremely horrified by this knowing that other kids would know my downfall, but this year, I was ready.
I took up my position with the other kids and began. It was amazing. I remember passing a girl that I admired running so slowly as to be walking with her face covered in sweat. I turned to smile at her yelling encouragement. I was quite pleased with myself. I was actually the one this time encouraging the ones who were having a difficult time.
When I crossed the finish line, I raised my arms and yelled, "Yes!" My gym teacher was talking to another teacher and barely gave me a glance.
I watched her closely to make sure she wrote down on her clipboard that I had indeed finished the mile and in much less time than usual. I wasn't even breathing hard. I stood there for a second wondering why I wasn't being fawned over and congratulated.
My gym teacher continued to talk to the other teacher. To come all this way...... it was definitely an anticlimactic moment.
I was determined, though. I was not going to let this moment get away from me. I inwardly celebrated and I'm sure everyone saw the smile on my face. Everyone was going to know I had run the mile, darn it.
Pride goeth before a fall, they say.
A couple days later, I came down with the worst pain I ever felt in my calves. I couldn't even walk. My gym teacher told me I had shin splints.
Didn't I know that I'm supposed to stretch before and especially AFTER running? Uh, no. No one told me that little piece of information.
So, that was the end of my mile running days.
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