Kickin' it Old School
2 min readBY LAUREN BOSTON
Looking through some old pictures on the UMW athletic website last night, a terrifying thought came to mind.
I realized that I could one day end up in the William S. James Elementary gym archives, clad in a God-awful Tweety Bird t-shirt and clutching a dodgeball with twenty unnecessary pounds on my fifth grade frame.
I hope I will never grace this newspaper. But when I say my prayers tonight, I’m also gonna beg the Big Man to get rid of The Rope, a universal Mt. Everest for 10-year-olds that left you demoralized.
In my experience, The Rope was part of several ‘stations.’ Collapsing on the bacteria-infested blue mats after climbing no more than two inches, I was usually forced to move on to the pummel horse.
Yeah, Mr. Freeland, this is exactly what I want to do right now. Send my chafed, splinter-ridden thighs flying over a giant rubber contraption that could prevent me from ever having children.
After surviving a stint in the air, it was time for scooter races. The scooters may have accommodated the 28-pound girl next to me, but I had trouble just fitting on the thing. I would feverishly propel the scooter with my hands until the one legitimately obese kid inevitably ran over my exposed fingers.
The next time you are at the gym on your own free will, take a minute to remember the elementary school children of America who are inching up The Rope as we speak.
I just hope someone’s taking a picture.
