Running wasn't ever something I voluntarily did. And competitive running? Are you kidding?! There are photos from a Grade 4 comp but if I wasn't bringing up the rear I'd swear they were faked.
I have horrible memories of the being on the oval in middle school with a dictatorial physical education
I could weep as I type.
Then cross-country running in Year 8 (which involved unsupervised laps of the very large block on which my school was located) left me in tears as the icy air burned my lungs and I lagged behind and I COULDN'T CARE LESS so I often opted instead for a far more civilised session of active sitting and discussion, in a cupboard, in my classroom, with a girlfriend occupying the other side. Surely the teachers knew of the truancy, but it was probably kinder for everyone that way, so nothing was said, not as far as I knew.
Gladly dancing came into my life at around that time: go-go. So without any intention to be fit, or competitive or part of a team I studied as many iconic '60s film clips as I could find on late night television with the intensity many young people devote to the sport of their choice, and learned how to really move.
The Sonics - Psycho-a-Go-Go
My father and brother were both state grade sportmen and very competitive. I love watching sport. I barrack like my life depends on it, particularly for the Carlton Football Club, a team I was born to support and whose blood runs through the veins of every member of this branch of the family. But I don't and I never wanted to suffer for sport. I just don't think it matters.