I did ten pull-ups today…normally, not
a feat worth mentioning. It occurred to me today, however, that for those
of us that muddled through the 70’s and early 80’s as pre-pubescent aliens -
this minor physical achievement could produce unintended satisfaction.
You see, I don’t do pull-ups because some trainer tells me to; I do pull-ups
for Ronald Reagan and everything the establishment told me about my physical
worth when I was 11 years old.
I dreaded it,
...d..r..e..a..d..e..d...the single week each year when my kind, gender
ambiguous, physical education teacher set aside the dodgeballs and hula hoops
for the Presidential Physical Fitness Award. As you may remember, the
program was a product of the government’s realization that we latchkey kids
were getting fat on TV dinners (real ones housed in tinfoil), Twinkies, and
Spam. The testing included five components: sit-ups, pull-ups (or flexed
arm hang), push-ups, a one-mile walk/run, and the shuttle run. Your
performance on these exercises would result in an award classification: no
award (pure feebleness), 50% fitness, 85% fitness, and of course, the coveted
Presidential Physical Fitness Award itself. Looking back, what better way
to inspire the pre-pubescent, huddled masses, to live a ‘fit life’ than to
expose their physical limitations and inadequacies in front of fellow
classmates?
I remember being offended the Gipper
would grade my physical prowess on a curve against my fellow 6th grader. Let’s not forget that by 6th grade, some of my comrades (or men)
were sporting mustaches and could no longer sing tenor. By my
account, at least half should have had their birth certificates certified by
the Little League World Series to legitimize the testing results.
Being one of the unfortunate late
bloomers, I would start each day of this dreaded week synching up my sweatpants
(somewhere around my lower rib cage) and preparing for battle - a battle I knew
I would lose. What I remember most is that I just hated the pull-ups.
I couldn’t do a single one and spent the entire time longingly looking
over at the girls who were lucky enough to be provided the option of the ‘flexed
arm hang’. I am not sure if the flexed arm hang was a result of the
ERA movement but it seemed a bit unfair. I took umbrage that our female counterparts
giggled and pointed at us as they performed this mundane task - which really,
from what I could tell, served no purpose at all. Unless you were
preparing to peek over walls for long periods of time or thought you might
need the skill to overcome a close call with a cliff…this activity was
useless…and easy – it was no pull-up.
The results were inevitable. Each year I would earn the 50% fitness award, affirming to the world on an annual basis that I was ‘half a man’. I often reflected on the irony of this ‘President’s Award’ and wondered how Ronnie would have faired in the shuttle run – I was sure I could take him. In the end, I bet this program has since been watered down, consistent with our modern milk toast approach to ego preservation. It’s too bad; I tend to believe I am a stronger person for enduring this physical ridicule. At the very least, it makes the occasional workout a bit more inspired.
I have three of those little patches. Fourth, fifth and sixth grade recipient... for reals. Although I did well, even on the flexed-arm hang, I HATED that week also. The unhealthy competitive feelings, the resulting decline in popularity BECAUSE I won the award... "There she goes... Miss Presidential Physical FiT. Ness."
My experience was in the 70s, prior to Ronnie. I voted for him. :-)
Posted by: Chris | 11/11/2009 at 06:26 AM