Wednesday, January 16, 2008

My Dark Past: The Maccabiah Games

I have this fantasy about myself when it comes to sports, talents, or skills. I always believe that I could be really good at it, until I actually try it.
So I naturally thought that I was an incredibly fast runner, should I ever find myself in a race when I would need to call upon all my speed and agility.
Every year at the JCC were the Maccabiah Games. These are like the Jewish Olympics on the international level, and on the city level, they're just pretty much: lame. When I was around 11, I entered myself in the track-and-field category, being an extraordinarily fast runner (why wouldn't I be?), with my eye on the 400 meter race.
There were only four kids in that race (I told you it was lame), and only three of us were boys.
On, "Go!" we all started sprinting around the field, following the orange cone marked boundaries. I soon was shocked to discover that I was not nearly as lightning fast as I had assumed.
It was the home stretch, and it was obvious I was about to lose the race. I was left with only one choice.
I let myself trip up on the somewhat rocky ground, and fell forward. I slowly got to my feet, knees stinging. I felt tears come to my eyes, which I'm still not sure if they were because of the acting, or because I really got hurt, or because I felt guilty about the acting. But now it wasn't so embarrassing if I lost: everyone always applauds the guy who fell but was determined to finish the race.
Now when I think back to that day, I go red with embarrassment. I know I was young, but how childish and wrong that was! I was such and idiot (keep those smart aleck comments to yourself about my choice of the word: was). It was a really dirty and low thing for me to pull. Man, I was such a loser!
Oh, don't tell anyone, now that you know the truth.