A long time ago in an elementary school named Ocean City, there was a day at the end of the year called 'field day', where students from each classroom per grade would compete against one another. 4th ? 5th? 6th ? grade. I can't remember when these pics were taken. I'm going to guess 6th grade because I vaguely remember the shoes.
So at some point, like around 4th grade. We had to start each day of recess or PE with one mile around the track. 4 laps of most kids groaning in agony. On Fridays we would run while being timed. It was this big nerve racking thing to me. Everyone lining up, jockying for position, and then taking off as fast as you could. Depending on how fast you ran, you could skip days of running the following week. If you ran under some number minutes you only had to run the following Monday and Wednesday. Something like that.
I hated running everyday. A mile was just a waste of time. It was hot, and I had other things to do man! I would get so nervous and wound up about running for time on Fridays, I would sometimes puke my food up while running. I recall once my buddy Shane applauding me for so strategically and artfully even, bombing the tires lining the track with my beef and rice vomit. It was like natural.
At field day tho, things were different. No one was faster than me when it came to running 100yards. Kids would tease me and say why do your feet hit your butt when you run. I won that dang race just about every year since 1st grade too. My 5th grade teacher wouldn't let me run in it, because he was boxed into his 'fair' choosing methods. I still hold that against you Mr. McCloud!
When 6th grade came around, everyone said that I couldn't beat Karlos Rhodes. He was such a cocky dude, but we got along really well. He was a nice kid, and I respected him. On race day, I made the mistake of lining up in gravel, thinking I was off to the side and wouldn't have to knock elbows. That didn't work out so well when my foot went right out from under me, and I stared in absolute horror as the pack left me with Karlos in the lead. I ran my ass off and came in second, just a stride away from beating Karlos. Not bad for giving them a 20 yard head start. I want to say Karlos congratulated me and put his arm around me as if to say good run son. He still had that charming smirk in his eye too, that said nana nana poopoo stick your head in doodoo! (tosh.0 ref)
But I was a sprinter, not a runner. And once I moved on to middle school, running or sprinting was lost to other things like cycling and tennis.
Running in the relay race. Jeez, such pressure at an early age to help your team win.
So at some point, like around 4th grade. We had to start each day of recess or PE with one mile around the track. 4 laps of most kids groaning in agony. On Fridays we would run while being timed. It was this big nerve racking thing to me. Everyone lining up, jockying for position, and then taking off as fast as you could. Depending on how fast you ran, you could skip days of running the following week. If you ran under some number minutes you only had to run the following Monday and Wednesday. Something like that.
I hated running everyday. A mile was just a waste of time. It was hot, and I had other things to do man! I would get so nervous and wound up about running for time on Fridays, I would sometimes puke my food up while running. I recall once my buddy Shane applauding me for so strategically and artfully even, bombing the tires lining the track with my beef and rice vomit. It was like natural.
At field day tho, things were different. No one was faster than me when it came to running 100yards. Kids would tease me and say why do your feet hit your butt when you run. I won that dang race just about every year since 1st grade too. My 5th grade teacher wouldn't let me run in it, because he was boxed into his 'fair' choosing methods. I still hold that against you Mr. McCloud!
When 6th grade came around, everyone said that I couldn't beat Karlos Rhodes. He was such a cocky dude, but we got along really well. He was a nice kid, and I respected him. On race day, I made the mistake of lining up in gravel, thinking I was off to the side and wouldn't have to knock elbows. That didn't work out so well when my foot went right out from under me, and I stared in absolute horror as the pack left me with Karlos in the lead. I ran my ass off and came in second, just a stride away from beating Karlos. Not bad for giving them a 20 yard head start. I want to say Karlos congratulated me and put his arm around me as if to say good run son. He still had that charming smirk in his eye too, that said nana nana poopoo stick your head in doodoo! (tosh.0 ref)
But I was a sprinter, not a runner. And once I moved on to middle school, running or sprinting was lost to other things like cycling and tennis.
Running in the relay race. Jeez, such pressure at an early age to help your team win.
Me and Scott Robertson in the 3 legged race.
The classic tug of war!! And to think I did that with a military belt buckle on! Gawd that is hilarious!
Awesome...looking forward to Part II!
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