A little bit juvenile...

OK, I'm going to step back in time now to my youth, and it's not all that pretty.
I was a skinny, short (until eighth grade) kid with NO, and I mean this in all sincerity, NO hand-eye coordination, which at a school with only basketball and softball as sports I could choose, left me no alternative except to stay at home. I had size 10 feet long before I had much height, so I looked like I was wearing clown shoes. At a piano recital when I was about 11, a girl asked if I was wearing my mother's shoes. Charming.
I remember the painful expectation of gym class, when I knew I'd either be the last to be picked or the second-to-the-last for teams. Everyone knew that I wasn't fast, wasn't coordinated, and to be honest, I really had long-stopped caring. It was obvious that I wasn't an athlete, and there was no need even trying anymore. At this stage, after giving cheerleading a disastrous try--hey, we all have our moments--I'd decided to be as aloof as possible to protect myself from emotional injury, a bad habit I'm still trying to break.
The images we develop of ourselves as children really have staying power, don't they? I've been an adult a lot longer than I was a child, and yet I still haven't truly bought into the idea that I'm an athlete, and frankly, not a half-bad one. This triathlon (in which I did a remarkably decent time) really has reminded me of how far I've come in my self-perception and how far I have to go. I shouldn't have to garner praise for my physical prowess, but when I do, it feeds this part of me that is still quite undernourished. This is not the first physical challenge I've undertaken (and no, I don't think this little triathlon is something outstanding, but it's the idea of it) and done relatively well in, but I'm so incredibly excited about the little medal I won and my t-shirt that I will wear with pride, just like I've worn my first (and ONLY!!!) 10K race t-shirt until it's nearly transparent from washings.
Maybe this is why I enjoy teaching exercise so much. I know what it feels like to be told I'm a loser at anything athletic. I have been the last to be picked for the team over and over again. I understand the shame when once again I've tripped or dropped the ball. And the scars are still forming from that, which is more a testament to how seriously, deep down inside me I wanted to be a jock than to the merit of the jeers and rolled eyes of my classmates when I'd failed once again.
I like to teach exercise because it matters. I want to make everyone in my classes feel that they ARE successful in their own rights, no matter what anybody else in the room is doing. I want my students to know what it feels like to challenge themselves to something they think might be impossible, and then push through the barriers and finish it. I want to create this army of strong, healthy, powerful people who can go out into the world and show that you don't have to be the strongEST or fastEST in the room to be a force to be reckoned with.
So this little triathlon has done more than just made me confident in my physical abilities, it's reminded me of why I do what I do. I do it for the skinny, pimply kid in gym class who will grow up one day and have to decide for himself just what kind of a physical being he will be. I do it for that little girl in dance class who is always a step behind but feels that deep down inside her lives a dancer. I do it because when you feel powerful, you are better equipped at helping others to feel powerful, too.
And that counts for something.