Sometimes, only sometimes, the clouds part and the warm sun shines down upon you. When it happens it’s a glorious thing and all one can do is stand in that bright, sunny spot and smile. Such was the case when I learned that I had injured my knee just enough to avoid PE for a few weeks.
”Heck, if I milk it a little, I could probably get excused for the rest of the quarter,” my evil, little mind plotted.
Mrs. Warren, skilled professional that she was, saw right through my plans and brought the clouds back into my atmosphere. It rained. Honestly, it rained right there on my head, just like in Charlie Brown.
“Don’t worry. You can make it up after you recover. All of it." she stated flatly.
As I watched her walk away I realized she wasn’t threatening me, she was making me a promise. It was one I knew she’d keep. Despair washed over me as I considered making up PE after or before school for weeks. I’d be alone—or worse, I’d have to run laps when the football team was practicing. Ew.
Just as I was about to give up, I remembered that there was one person who hated PE more than I did. My Mother. Not only did she hate PE, she really despised PE teachers and if I informed her that Mrs. Warren was attempting to force me to make up PE and that she was the cheerleader coach me dear ole’ mum would come unhinged.
She’s funny that way.
I made the call during lunch, threw in a couple of sniffles (okay, I really was crying) and she said she’d take care of it. I felt better. I knew my mother didn’t like me, but I also knew she disliked PE teachers more.
Apparently Mother made one call to my school counselor. Ms. Counselor assured my mother that there was, “No need for you to come in…I can handle it from here…”. Mother, however, wasn’t so sure. I caught sight of her during a class break as she made her way towards the gym, Ms. Counselor in tow.
The rest, as they say, is history. I didn’t make up four weeks of PE. Mrs. Warren never looked me in the face again, and she passed me with a C. Thus ended my adventures in physical education, or so I thought.
Last spring, my best friend and I started walking. Then we started running. It was a liberating feeling; to be forty and running. But then winter came and with it the rain, snow, and wind. I’m a weenie, in case you haven’t noticed, and I don’t like running in the cold. I kept working out at the gym and waited for those glorious spring days to return.
And they have.
Running to me is an accomplishment. Realizing that I am strong and that I can run is one of the finest things I have ever done for myself. I think back, often, to that girl that I was. I was slender, but I was weak. There may be more meat on these bones today, but I’m strong, I run, and I love that. Wouldn’t Mrs. Warren be pleased!
The sun is shinning and white, puffy clouds dot the expanse of the heavens. It’s a cool spring day, after a rain shower and it seems like a perfect day for a run.