Once I Tried Sports

So, I realized as I was looking back over my more recent stories, most of my words lately have been fairly depressing. Since PFN is mostly intended to be a humorous blogtoon, I've decided to address one of the most comical subjects I can think of:

Me attempting to participate in sports-related activities. 

The story starts when I was in 7th grade, and a boy that I liked was on the track team. I don't know what strange ideas possessed my mind and convinced me that being on the track team with him would cause him to like me, especially considering the fact that this particular boy ran like an amazing spirit and would go on to be the boys' state cross country champion in high school. But, since my teeny little brain was clouded by little bitty hormones, I decided to go for it.

Now, let me describe to you my 11-year-old physique...

When I was in 7th grade, I was 4'9 and weighed about 80 pounds. My parents always made fun of me and told me that, technically, Utah law requires anyone under 85 pounds to ride in a car seat. 

My body was not built for athleticism. 

Fortunately I went to public school, and therefore I guess they were required to let anyone and everyone try out for the track team, and the coaches tried really hard to find an event for me. 

First I tried sprinting...

...which turned out to not be my event. Turns out when you have teeny little lungs and little short legs, it's hard to cover any distance with any sort of speed.

Next I tried something a little less... running-oriented. The coaches thought that maybe I would be better at the long jump, since I didn't weigh very much and it didn't require running for much distance.

...that turned out to not really be my niche either.

Obviously I wasn't going to be great at anything that required very long legs, and jumping a great distance in a horizontal direction definitely wasn't for the stubby of limbs. Perhaps, however, my teeny body could get some vertical momentum instead. 

...high jumping also yielded less than thrilling results.

At the end of the tryouts and at the end of the coaches' patience, someone somewhere suggested one final event for me to try.

Seriously, I don't know whose idea it was to have the 80-pound girl throw a 50-pound shot, but I wasn't amused. (Also, yes, I know that a typical shot doesn't weigh more than 9 pounds for women, but it seemed much closer to my body weight than it should have been.)

Needless to say, I did not go home from tryouts that day as the newest member of the track team. This wasn't because I didn't make the team, though. The poor coaches, bless their hearts, tried to convince me that if I kept trying, they could find something for me to excel at, but I decided it wasn't worth the disappointment. Sometimes you just know when you are meant for more... sedentary things.

Lucky for me, though, I went on to try band, and that worked out pretty well for me. The little boy I liked in 7th grade played trumpet, conveniently, and he ended up being my very first date in high school. We're still bestest friends to this day. Also convenient was the fact that my dearly beloved husband played trumpet as well, and had I been a sportsperson, it's likely we would have never met.

As I tell this story to friends and family all these years later, the response I get is almost always "But if they had let you try the pole vault, I'm sure that would have been perfect for you!" 

Somehow, I can't see that ending well either.