The Curse of the Blue Gym Suit

Last Thursday evening I ran two miles on the treadmill.

Really.

I RAN TWO MILES!

The girl who hated P.E., who wore the same blue gym suit for six years because she didn’t care enough to get a new one, ran two miles on the treadmill for no other reason than for the challenge.  I’m almost afraid to admit it publicly.  Not only is it totally outside my natural inclination to sit and knit, but now that I’ve done it, I’ll be expected to do it again, or maybe run even further next time!

I don’t know at what point exercise became disagreeable.  When I was a kid, some of my fondest memories were spent running through the field of wild flowers by our house.  I never worried about dirt, fleas, ticks or even sunburn.  I just remember the feeling of running, it was like being set free.

There were countless games of tag with the my brothers and sisters and later neighborhood kids when we moved into town.  We played kick ball, rode our bikes, went for picnic hikes in the woods with our PB&J sandwiches and thermos of Kool Aid.  We seemed to always be on the move.

Even when I attended Catholic school,  where we didn’t have P.E., we were always jumping rope at recess and before and after school.

Nope, the change seemed to come when we moved to New Jersey and we made the switch to public school.  Religion class was replaced by the American secular worship of physical education.  With gym class came the gym suit.

This is what my gym suit looked like.

Just imagine this in blue with my name embroidered over the pocket.

I however, was short, skinny, wore glasses and my teeth were clad in a full set of braces; upper and lower.  My name was embroidered over the pocket.  Of all the billions of photos available on line, this is the only one I could find of my style of gym suit.  I couldn’t even find one in my yearbook!   P.E. class and the wretched gym suit took all the fun out of being active.  No longer could I simply wear the play clothes I had at home; a special wardrobe was required.  I couldn’t just run for fun or jump rope; all exercise in school involved team sports, excessive rules and the dreaded earsplitting sound of a whistle!  Whistles were even fun for us kids before P.E. class.  But, just like the tailored darts on my gym suit in its stiff, unforgiving cotton fabric, they too had to be confined to the rules. I know the gym suit isn’t to blame for my decades of inactivity but I do believe it was the start.  Except for the fact that it lasted me through middle and high schools and the color was a nice shade of blue, I don’t have much nice to say about it.  Whatever the cause, I am glad that I am beginning to overcome the dislike of physical activity.  I understand it’s importance on my overall health and will keep pushing myself.  I wish I could say that I still get that feeling of freedom and endless possibilities running as a child gave me but its been replaced by satisfaction of accomplishment.  It’s much more fun to just enjoy and be, don’t you think? 

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