Carolyn: The Jock

by gretchen



When you are a kid, you assume that the world you live in is just the same as all of your friends. Whatever life you live, that life is "normal." Great novels have been written on the revelation that occurs when you start to realize there is a world outside your own -- moving tales of rebirth and the blinders falling from an innocent's eyes.

This is not that.

But I can tell you about the day when I realized that my world was different. It was at Julie Carreo's house. Loved Julie. Julie was fun and cool and made me laugh. I'm a sucker for anyone who makes me laugh. And junk food. They had junk food. Come on. I grew up in granola house.


I went to her house for a sleep over and we were going to hang out all day the next day. I watched her mom. She put on jeans and a nice sweater. This seemed weird to me. My mother didn't own jeans. She owned running shorts, cycling shorts ("shammies," which is just fun to say; even better is, "Your shammy is shot; you need a new one!"), bathing suits, tennis skirts and sweats. Julie's mom cleaned the house, went shopping, came home, read a book. It was all very odd to me. There seemed no progression toward work out time. As ther afternoon wore in, I wondered how, in what little time was left, she would manage to run, play tennis, bike, and swim. I was extremly concerned; she was running out of time. Finally, around 4:00, I could take no more. "Julie, when is your mother going for her run?" I demanded, appalled.


"What?" she asked, confused. "Why does she need to run? What's chasing her?"


"Chasing her? Run. You know, exercise. When is she going?"


"My mom doesn't run." This did not compute. Isn't that what moms do? They run? Every day? And race every weekend? Hello? How can you not run? This is the early 80's! But then I understood. I smiled knowingly.


"Oh, of course. She bikes." Julie started at me, chewing a twinkie. "She doesn't bike?" I asked, wondering if this woman had a strange illness. "Swim?" I asked. Julie shook her head. "I don't understand, what does she do to work out every day?"


Nothing.


"She's not a work out person," Julie finally confessed. And this I did not understand at all. I didn't realize it was a choice. I didn't realize that not all moms worked out all day long, that not all moms raced, that not all moms spent the entire day in workout clothes.


It's OK that I was raised seeing her working out and competing. It's OK that this was different from all the other moms. And it's OK that I didn't follow in her footsteps. But what is not OK, people, is that the woman didn't own a single pair of jeans.


That's just unAmerican.