I have never liked gym class. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. I liked gym class up to 5th grade. But for the past 11 years I have never liked gym class. And there is a reason for that, a reason that extends beyond my less-than-stellar physical abilities (I’m not a lazy blob or anything but I never understood the point of running for fun). This reason was those damn, over-achieving, competitive freaks who took even an innocent game of kickball and turned it into a game of tackle kickball. Scoff if you wish, this was a real example.
In high school I was in what was called “Gumby” gym. Granted, this was not a school board designated title, but it was a generally accepted rule. Athletes took “advanced” gym and spent 40 minutes running uphill and stopping every so often to do 100 sit-ups or push-ups or squats. Ridiculous. Then there were the rest of us in Gumby gym. We spent 40 minutes standing in the goal box complaining about our periods while the other girls lazily kicked a soccer ball at the other end of the field.
