Fighting the past

I saw a picture of myself the other day. It was from a race this summer — one of the Lincoln ones, I think. My first thought was, "damn, I'm skinny." With the exception of a brief fat period after college, I've always been that way.

And for the most part, it's been a weak skinny. I mean, I have some muscles, but by and large ... yeah, not a lot going on in the arms. I was first made painfully aware of that in elementary school, when we did Presidential Fitness Award testing. I remember being directed to hoist my stick-figure body up onto the chin-up bar and crank out as many as possible.

My goal was always one. I'm not sure I ever did it.

And after that particular bit of embarrassment, it was off to the flexibility testing. At no point — even up through middle school — did I ever pass it. Not even close. (And I never came close to passing the Presidential Fitness Test as a whole, either.)

When we stretched in baseball and track and cross country, I had someone else touch my toes for me, because there was no way I was going to be able to do it.

In this current, second athletic life I've been working more and more on flexibility. And with my shoddy back, it's more important than ever to keep it up.

And that's why I'm happy to announce that on Tuesday I not only touched my toes, but I touched the floor, too. (Straight knees, all of the proper criteria, etc.)

Holy crap. (I just did it again to confirm. Yes!) I may have something going here.