I Cheated...and I'm SORRY!

Up...two...three...four. Down....two...three...four. I remember PE classes when I was growing up. Since I was the non-atheletic type, you can be certain I was in the "last to be chosen for teams" group very often. Coach P. was our teacher in Elementary school and he had little or no sympathy for the uncoordinated among us. This was pretty much the case for me until I graduated high school...and for that matter during the one PE class I had to take in college as well.

And while I played outside in our neighborhood as a youngster, it was rarely an activity that required much physical strength OR hand-eye coordination. And most of my peers knew it. I quickly learned, whether it was at home or at school, to avoid what I knew would bring me great embarassment or teasing from my peers.

At no time was this more clear than the weeks when we were being clocked and timed and recorded for the "President's Physical Fitness Challenge". You might know that you have to run the mile, do sit-ups, push-ups, pull-ups, and other things as a part of this activity. It was during these times that I felt the most inadequate. When we went to school, it was common for the entire class to watch while one person did the activity. I wasn't very old when I started volunteering to be the recorder for the scores. I figured out how to bypass it all.

Coach would call people up and, when I could, I'd put a score in for me---I feel so guilty writing that even now. This was especially true on days when we were doing pull-ups, long jumps, and dashes. I never did give myself a high score. I didn't want to be great...I only wanted to avoid the laughter and snide comments from my peers. I wanted to be finished. In some ways, for me, it seemed like survival at the time. On this side of things, I wonder if perhaps Coach knew my dilemma and just let it happen.

At any rate, it all came to a head tonight in our local YMCA with my trainer and my DS 2 present. When I arrived at the session, DS 2 and the trainer were in a conversation. They speak the same "work out" language, so this didn't surprise me too much. The trainer asked me if I wanted to work "back" tonight. I said, "sure" (like I know if I should say yes or no or not). I probably should have turned around and left when I looked deep into his and my DS 2's smiling eyes. He quickly follows up with, "Good, we're going to start with some pull-ups." WHAT!?!?!

I WANTED to ask for HIS clipboard. I wanted to tell him I'D record the reps and stuff that HE and DS 2 did. I WANTED to RUN AWAY. But I was STUCK! So there, in the middle of a very full YMCA, he had me stand on the machine that helps you do "Assisted Pull-ups". And for the first time in 43 years...I pulled myself SOMEWHAT up for three reps of five. Did my chin go as high as it should? NOPE. Would it have even counted in the President's Challenge? NOPE. Suddenly, though, it didn't matter.

I pulled. The trainer supported the "counter weight" and urged me on. The only remotely unkind thing I heard was DS 2 say, "I've got to start bringing a camera to these sessions." :-) He waited until I was laughing to say it. And, even HE knows, that's not going to happen.

As I drove home a bit sore in my arms and back, I was thinking back on all the pull-up sessions I had actually dodged. And I had to laugh when I reminded myself that I am PAYING for this one! And then, I laughed even harder as I wondered just how many I'd be able to do the "next time". And then I asked, "Who was that voice talking in my head?"