Gym class kills your soul.

I have very distinct memories from middle school gym class, some of which are more traumatic than others. One in particular involves something I am certain was created by the devil specifically to torture adolescent girls. I can't recall the name, but it involves all of the girls running in a line and taking turns sprinting to get to the front of the line. As in, when a girl is at the back of the line, the gym teacher blows a whistle and she sprints to the front, then the next girl at the back goes, etc, etc. Why this seemed like a good idea to anyone is beyond me.

At the tender age of 14, wearing loose fitting purple shorts from Wal-Mart that did little to hide the flapping flesh on my thighs, I found myself trudging along on a track made of crushed red rock, surrounded by girls from the volleyball team or the basketball team or the "hey look at me I'm perfect" team, and approaching the back of the line far too quickly. Before I knew it, my turn had arrived. And try as I might, I couldn't get to the front of the damn line.

You would think that the other girls would see me struggling and slow down a little so as to avoid seeing their classmate die of cardiac arrest. Of course, in middle school things like human decency don't really seem to be a concern to most people. So there I was, putting forth as much effort as humanly possible, all the while hearing the screams of the gym teacher--"Come on Leslie! Get to the front! Hurry up!" They haunt my dreams, really.

I never made it to the front of the line. Eventually the teacher gave up and just called for the next person to go and I was left to run around the track in solitude and failure.

For some reason I have more distinct memories of middle school gym class than of high school gym class. I blame this on the fact that by the time I reached high school I had figured out that hanging with all the other gym class misfits was the way to go. Cause if we were too cool it didn't matter if we came close to death.

It might seem strange that my newfound sport of choice has become running. To be honest, it even confuses me. After eighth grade I wouldn't have blamed myself if I chose to never even walk at a quick pace again. But I've discovered that I like how it challenges me. I only have myself to compete with, and I can push myself as much as I choose. So long as I'm not surrounded by adolescent girls when I go for a run, I think all will be well for my future endeavors.

Regardless, I wish I could remember the name of that stupid activity. I would totally petition someone important to have it banned from school forever.