BEYOND THE SCOREBOARD

Track and Field When You’re Without Talent as a Kid

Shot put was the obvious choice

I didn’t look like this, but I was definitely alone in the field! Deposit Photos subscription

When I was a child, Hermes — an Olympic god associated with track abilities — ran by me fast. Bypassed me altogether. My genes made me suited to studying, math, playing piano, and knowing lots of arcane details. I didn’t know I couldn’t run fast though.

Anyone could run, right?

I was twelve when I found myself standing near the track ready to show my stuff. Stuff I didn’t have. While my parents insisted I could “do anything I set my mind to,” they didn’t say anything about my body’s role. I was built like a weightlifter. This wasn’t promising for track and field events. Not in the early ’70s.

While I knew (for a solid fact) I could run away from my older sister and lock myself in the bathroom to avoid her wrath, those twenty-foot sprints didn’t serve me well for track tryouts.

The gym teachers and track coaches figured out who could run

I stood with four other girls at a starting line, and bang! the gun sounded. I ran. That’s when the wheat separated from the chaff. The chaff is the worthless part that falls from the valuable grain. I was the chaff, to be clear.