There I was, wheezing, as I tried to keep up with everyone else. Give up I did not, however. I carried on, trudging wearily, slapping one tired foot in front of the other on the hard cement floor, focusing on the prize: my dignity.
Clearly, I didn't get the prize, because I have no dignity left. There I was, in my gym class, which all we paramedic-wannabes have to take in an effort to get into good enough shape to be able to lift and carry ill people and equipment, all while eating an ice cream cone, or possibly that salami sandwich that you just found stuffed in the side pocket of your pants.
You know, guys, it's not easy keeping up with a class full of mostly 20-somethings, especially when your mammary glands keep hitting your knees.
There they all are, gleefully skipping around the room as if they're in a field of daisies and they're lazily making their way toward their lover. And there I am, my ass slapping the backs of my thighs as I grunt my way around the room, which constantly seems to grow exponentially with every lap I do.
Meanwhile, there is my teacher, screaming supportively, "Fight the asthma! FIGHT THE ASTHMA!"
Fight the asthma? How about fight the AGE? I just turned 48, and am just now realizing that I am no longer able to keep up with everyone. I kept telling myself that it was simply because I wasn't in shape, and everyone else is obviously quite active. But no, as Mr. Handsome so kindly pointed out to me last week, it's mostly because I'M OLD. OLD. As in, aged. As in, I could be most of these guys' mother, and maybe even a grandma if I had had my firstborn at the age of 13 (which isn't so out of the ordinary in this day and age).
This point was further brought to my attention when one of the students asked if anyone else was born in 1990. My head whipped around so fast it almost came off my neck and flew across the room and hit the opposite wall as I looked at him with hatred in my far-sighted eyes. 1990? What the hell? And yes, there were a few born then. WTF?! Are they just trying to make me feel like I already do? Meaning, that I should be wheeled into class in a coffin...
The coup de resistance, however, was when one of the young 'uns 'innocently' asked if anyone was up for a nice run around the campus after gym class. I, who could no longer feel my legs, looked at her in disbelief. If she wasn't so damn cute, I would have probably throttled her cute little firm neck.
And then, another 1990er piped up and said, "Nah. I did a long run already this morning after reading my text for three hours."
I'm in so much trouble.