20 April, 2015

Q is for Quidditch (& all the sports I don't play)

"Sophia" and "sport" don't find themselves in the same sentence very often.  It really is quite miraculous that I ever got off my bottom to move at all, except that my Mum was cunning enough to leave my books, blocks and teddies far enough out of reach to force me to find a means of getting to them, and hence I learned to crawl, and then walk.

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 Nazi teacher forcing me over hurdles.  Hell!  It was hell.  Gazelle-like, my classmates flew over the obstacles, while I hesitated, stumbled and ate dirt and got dirty while the sadistic cow with the blasted whistle shouted.  

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.


  1. oh but I wish I enjoyed exercise, becoz then i wouldn't hate my fat aging body... it wouldn't feel like punishment to try to do something about it.

    Jen and I used to go home to her place for a cuppa while the cross country was on... like you, it's been a lifetime of not-love

    1. Just another of the many things that bind us, W. I do have to say, though, that it's far more enjoyable taking a pup for a walk than just going for a daily constitutional for one's health's sake - who could be fagged? Watching the waggelly tail and the bounce and the sniffing is such a wonderful distraction from the actual exercising...