Life's Hurdles

Harsh critics. Geeez.

"Jumping Turtle. You don't post for like a month, and then you throw some crappy posting up about Hannah Montana and hurricanes. You suck!"

That's what people have been saying to me. Just because I have a hard shell on the outside, doesn't mean I'm not soft and sensitive in the middle. Well, here you go. Now you can laugh at me even more than you already do. I didn't want to have to do this but redemption calls for it.

It was a hot summer afternoon. I was 15 years old, and I had just finished my events at the regional track meet. I was on the track team which means I wore track shorts. Those of you who have seen my legs, now imagine them poking out of track shorts and you have your first laugh. Congratulations. I hope you enjoy it. Let's just say my legs don't look like Jackie Joyner Kersey's.



More like the guy from "A Nightmare Before Christmas."



Anyway, I thought I was done with my events. I stuck to the jumps - high jump, triple jump, and long jump - I wasn't much of a runner. All of a sudden the coach approached me and asked if I would be able to fill in on the 400 yd. hurdles. One of our guys couldn't make it. "Sure" I said. I was honored he asked me. I remember thinking, "This is going to be cake. I can jump, and I can run around the track one time no problem. I wouldn't be surprised if I win this thing." Remember, this was a regional meet, not just local. In other words, the rich white boys and asian kids I was used to competing against had been replaced by the black man who was counting on his athleticism to send him to college and, if things go well, provide a career. Whatever, I could hang.

I warmed up a little. Did some approaches to the hurdles. Hopped over a few to get an idea of the height. Did some stretching. I could touch my toes back then. It was sweet. We had this retarded kid on our track team - Patrick. He was special. He ran in a few of the races, including the 400 hurdles, and everyone cheered loud for him. He always came in last place, but all the cheers brought a big smile to his face and he must have been happier than the guy who finished first.

Time to get in the blocks. I settled in with my head down and my fists on the track waiting for the gun to pop. BANG! I was off. Screw pacing myself. This is only 400 yards. I sprinted out of the blocks and over the first hurdle. The second hurdle. The third. "Alright. It's a little harder to run and jump like this, but I'm okay. Just 7 more." By about the 5th hurdle I was really struggling. I had no rhythm. I would approach a hurdle and stutter step and then just jump over it. I think I started knocking some of them down with my knobby knees. I was even tempted to just run into them and keep running. By this time, everyone had passed me up except Patrick. It was just me and him out there bringing up the rear. I jumped over the 8th hurdle and the 9th. Then I heard the cheering start getting louder and louder. The leaders had crossed a long time ago. What was all the cheering about? "Uh oh. The retarded kid is about to pass me up isn't he?" I thought to myself. The cheering got louder. I glanced to my right and there he was inching past me as we approached the 10th hurdle. He lept over it like a gazelle with a big grin on his face. The moral dilemma presented itself. Do I try and pick up the pace, save face, and beat this guy. Or do I let him run to his first 2nd to last place in his track career. Then I realized I had no choice. Not because I'm some superior moral being and knew it would be the right thing to do to let him win. No. I was just too tired. Even if I wanted to try and catch up with him I couldn't. So I hobbled over the 10th hurdle like the cricket you just threw in the toilet that's trying to jump up the wall of the toilet to get out of the water but he can't, so he just gives up and you flush. I crossed the finish line. My face was red because I was embarrassed and I was really tired of running. My team was surrounding Patrick congratulating him on his first second to last. He was happier than I'd ever seen him.

I didn't get any scholarship offers to USC that day. But I guess I made someone happy. I hope he remembers that day - cause I sure do.

And Jumping Turtle was born.