Growing up, I spent a lot of time being The Fat Kid and The New Kid. In both instances, one soon learns the wisdom of (1) not calling too much attention to oneself; and (2) only doing things that one knows one is good at (mostly to avoid circumstances in which one fails miserably and so does not achieve (1)).
This ethos, combined with non-sporty indian genetics (we can't all play cricket), meant that I avoided all kinds of exercise. I wrote my own notes to the teacher, forging my folks' signature (unsuccessfully) trying to save myself from Phys. Ed. class. I faked injuries, and one time I even tried telling the teacher that it was against my religion (I'm Catholic; she didn't buy it).
Anyhoo. Fast forward a few (quite a few) years and although my legs grew and my waist didn't and I now tend to only hang out with New Kids (we are the new black), I've never really acquired the taste for kicking my wimpy genes and breaking a sweat. I tried to tell my friends that the last time I did a charity run (15 years ago), I spent the whole time at Starbucks until the wheelchair participants passed me. They think I'm joking. I'm not.
I just had a baby, so my spare time is like the sunshine in Amsterdam - you keep thinking its coming, it's really not, you learn to be happy anyway. I also really really like the kid, so I tend to hang out with him a lot. Again, not super conducive to half marathon training.
So will the Fat Kid grow up, against the odds? Time will tell!
This ethos, combined with non-sporty indian genetics (we can't all play cricket), meant that I avoided all kinds of exercise. I wrote my own notes to the teacher, forging my folks' signature (unsuccessfully) trying to save myself from Phys. Ed. class. I faked injuries, and one time I even tried telling the teacher that it was against my religion (I'm Catholic; she didn't buy it).
Anyhoo. Fast forward a few (quite a few) years and although my legs grew and my waist didn't and I now tend to only hang out with New Kids (we are the new black), I've never really acquired the taste for kicking my wimpy genes and breaking a sweat. I tried to tell my friends that the last time I did a charity run (15 years ago), I spent the whole time at Starbucks until the wheelchair participants passed me. They think I'm joking. I'm not.
I just had a baby, so my spare time is like the sunshine in Amsterdam - you keep thinking its coming, it's really not, you learn to be happy anyway. I also really really like the kid, so I tend to hang out with him a lot. Again, not super conducive to half marathon training.
So will the Fat Kid grow up, against the odds? Time will tell!
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