watch what you do with that discus

Writing my blog yesterday brought back memories of my high school days. I am sure that I forget most of the bad and remember most of the good. One of my friends commented that I was good at anything I put my mind to. That was really nice, but pretty far from the truth, I'm afraid. I don't think she was on the track team with me.

Track was a "no cut" sport when I was in high school. I was enthusiastic and enjoyed the fact that I was on a team. The way I remember it, I was not really all that bad, just not really all that good. I realized that the best way for me to get a chance at competing was to choose an event that was maybe a little less popular than the others. I could fill a void.

The running workouts were hardest, and as much as I'd like to say I was a real go-getter and went for that, I can't. I chose field events. Shorter runs and a lot of time to hang out and visit with my teammates. I thought I was getting the hang of triple jump. I am pretty sure I even placed a few times. Never first place--I'd remember that--but second or third anyway.

I'm not quite sure what (or who) helped me decide to try the discus. Maybe I was showing promise, so my coach suggested I try the "four step approach." After watching some demonstration, I was happy to be the first volunteer to try this new and exciting throwing technique. I don't exactly remember the full course of events, but my first try at the four step approach was my last. No sooner had the discus left my hand than it rocketed toward another girl's head. To my horror, she was out cold. Flat on the ground, but luckily for me (and her too, really) no teeth out, no broken bones. Unconscious, but at least on the outside, unscathed. I wonder if she remembers the smelling salts that day. I hope her memory is a bit fuzzier than mine...