*read with my sarcasm in mind.Â
i remember my first night here in germany.Â i was exhausted because of the time difference, i found myself sitting in a church praying for a few minutes, and then i went out for a walk.Â person after person passed me jogging or on a bike.Â the amount of spandex i saw that evening was absolutely incredible.Â and all i could think was, “these people are really into exercise.”
now maybe i’m not used to this because i live in small town America or maybe i’m not used to this because most Americans don’t function like this, but as i watched all these people nordic-walking, running, and biking, i felt perfectly comfortable being what i thought was the average american girl who is out of shape and has never been involved in sports in her life.
unfortunately, my view on all this was very uneducated and i quickly found that out.Â i wasn’t here at school a week before i realized that almost everyone had been on some sort of sports team before and they go running, do aerobics, or work out in our weight room once a day.Â and i suddenly realized that i was in the minority of eighteen-year-old american girls whoÂ don’t work outÂ and have never been involvedÂ in sports.Â
they would invite me to go with them as they ran their regular 6K or did their average 200 crunches and 100 push-ups per dayÂ and i would smile and say, “oh thanks, i would, but i’ve got some stuff to do.”Â a lie? Â yes (Lord, forgive me).Â it’s notÂ like i don’t doÂ anything.Â i walk.Â oh yes, iÂ always walkÂ forty-five minutes a day to an hour.Â you would be amazed at how quickly my brain worked in order to tell myself that i was getting plenty of exerciseÂ just byÂ walking a bit.Â
day after day i was surrounded by this atmosphere of being healthy, of pushing your body further, and getting the full 35 sport points a week and eventually it did something to me.Â maybe it was because i realized i’ve never sat more in my life until now or maybe everything mr.story said finally sunk in or maybe it was because everyday the button on my pants is getting harder to button — whatever it is, this week i started running.
now i’m a smart person and know that i probably don’t want to run when everyone from fishbach is out as well.Â this town is small enough that there are only so many places to run and since i hardly like to walk through the school hall in my black stretch pants and t-shirt that show my rather lumpy out of shape figure, i didn’t think i’d want to suffer while being passed left and right by spankex-clad toned bodies.Â so i chose the evening.Â yes, it’s perfect — the sun is down, no one can really see and no one else is around.
until this evening.Â as i started out on my very slow pace, i started to be the one passing people.Â there wereÂ womenÂ in heeled boots and men in suits.Â there were fourÂ girls and boys standing outside of our turkish restaurant hanging out who decided to cheer me along.Â there was a traffic jam along the street and more people on the sidewalk than ever before.Â i know it’s friday night, but that doesn’t usually make any difference here.Â this town is usually dead — what happened to it?Â maybe i was just self-conscience but i do think they were all looking at me and my saddle-bags.
and as i went along, huffing and puffing, running until my calves startedÂ cramping (a grand total of twelve minutes), i decided that i’d rather be in the minority of american girls who don’t exercise and have never been invovled in sports than undergo this humiliation.