It wasn’t bad enough that I was the tallest girl in class, I was also clumsy. A fact that quickly put an end to any basketball aspirations I might have had. To survive humiliation in gym I was determined to find a sport that would teach me grace and coordination. I naively chose gymnastics because I was fascinated by the gymnast’s graceful motions and seemingly effortless command of their bodies. I spent hours in front of televised competitions imagining myself in complete control of my long, ungainly limbs. Somehow I never noticed their petite size.
As hard as I tried I failed at even the most basic elements of trampoline, balance beam and tumbling. My long limbs seem to have a mind of their own. Still determined I was convinced that my length would be an asset on the uneven bars. I stood on the low bar and threw my long body over the top of the high bar ready to swing back up in one graceful motion. The loud slap could be heard across the gym as I found myself standing flat on my feet with my hands still gripping the bar. The PE teacher apologetically explained that she could not adjust the bars for just one student and the height was sufficient for everyone else. Somehow that didn’t help.
Vaulting was my last chance. Surely long legs would not be a problem for jumping, I told myself. They still talk about the tangled mess of legs and arms they found that day on the far side of the vaulting horse. The minute I was upright again I ran for the door as fast as I could. I would love to say that I discovered my track and field ability at that moment but the track cinders that are still embedded in my knees are evidence to the contrary.
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