I Am My Own Cousin.

Chapter 10:The Visitation Situation

Richard Simmons' moose knuckles popped into my head in vividly clear mental image. That morning at school was the first day we were going to be tested on running two miles in gym class. I had been dreading it because I had never even run a quarter mile in my entire life and was not in shape at all. I didn't want to be the stereotypical dorky kid in gym class who couldn't climb the rope, like in sitcoms, but had so far not understood the rules for any activity the class had done. Coach Pratt told everyone to stretch out before we got started. I had no clue how to "stretch out". The last stretching I had ever done were "butterflies" in the third grade. When we were homeschooled we would sometimes watch Richard Simmons videos and try to follow his instructions. It always had a difficult time focusing on his exercises instead of his moose knuckles poking out of the tiny short shorts he was so fond of wearing, gross.

Unlike Mr. Simmons I wasn't fond of showing off my legs, pale as a dead person and covered in spider veins. I had dressed out into my improvised gym shorts. They were a cut off pair of sweat pants that had belonged to Mom when she was plumper. I had to roll the waist band up a solid five rolls to keep them on my hips. I had turned my Uncle Stephen's red Budweiser t-shirt inside out so the logo couldn't be seen and promote alcoholism among my classmates. Most of the other girls in the class had form fitting Nike shorts that accentuated their perfectly smooth and tan legs.

Coach Pratt ordered the class to line up on the track and then blew her whistle simultaneously pushing a button on her stopwatch, everyone took off.  The athletic girls in the class immediately pulled far ahead of everyone else. I was desperate not to be the last student over the finish line. I made the mistake of trying to keep pace with the girls who were in the lead but quickly became winded. I remember what Coach Pratt had said about imaging you had a bag of potato chips strapped to your chest, to help keep your back straight so your lungs could expand easier.

After the first lap my side had more stitches than Michael Jackson after his plastic surgeries. My legs had a numb tingly feeling that made them itch. I slowed down to a walk, putting my hands on my hips and closing my eyes. I could hear footsteps passing me. I felt a familiar competitive side in me rise up, I had been competing my entire life with my sisters over everything. It was unacceptable for them to have a better time than me when they ran in their gym class. I took a deep breath and took off again.  The experienced athletic girls had a smooth gait that resembled a gazelle, my gait was awkward and I looked more like a wounded duck. I gave myself tiny landmarks to obtain so the entire two miles wasn't as daunting.

Finally the finish line was in my sights, Ms. Pratt stood beside it with her clip board and stop watch, wearing a red and white tracksuit in honor of the school colors. As soon as I was over the line I came to a stop, I didn't know you should cool off, and began wheezing and moaning. I was unable to catch my breath and couldn't think of anything but how inviting the wet grass seemed, so I lay down in it. After a few moments of undignified gasping and sputtering I tried to pull myself together. I felt someone standing over me so opened my eyes, it was Ms. Pratt.

"That was an impressive time Gertrude." She had affectionately dubbed me Gertrude early on in the semester because she said I looked like a Gertrude, whatever that meant. Thankfully the moniker didn't' catch one with the other students in the class. No one really seemed to notice I was even in the class, except for my buddy Renee. "You finished right behind Shay."  I was surprised; Shay was the most athletic chick in the class and resembled a cyborg more than a teenage girl. I realized that none of the other girls were even remotely close to being finished; most were just walking and chatting with each other.

I was uncomfortable with the compliment and embarrassed about looking like I was in death throes on the ground so I willed myself to stand up.  I stood a little too quickly and felt all the color drain out of my face, I began heaving. So much for maintaining any shred of dignity, I laid back down. "Gertrude did you breakfast? You are looking a little paler than usual." Without thinking to filter my words before speaking I said, "Yeah, I had two little Debbie's and a Payday bar. " Her jaw dropped," Say that again, what?" I repeated myself again suddenly more self conscious than I already had been.