I've had a long history of not competing on school sports teams. The main reason why I haven't done so is because the vast majority of sports teams require some running and I have been told many times in no uncertain terms that running with my crooked leg is not a good idea.
In my freshman year of high school when I moved from Virginia to Minnesota (halfway through my freshman year, January 2010, to be exact), I decided to just go for it and participate on a school team. I chose to be a fencer, ultimately leaning towards epee rather than foil or saber because epee involved learning fewer rules. As I quickly found out, fencing involves quite a lot of squatting, which means lots of stress on knees. There was also some running involved, not a ton. Long story short, I competed on the team for half a season, half a season meaning half a season of trying to wrap my mind around basic fencing concepts followed by the final meet, at which I more or less charged people without technique, hoping to score points (it didn't work).
I showed up for captains' practice the next season. That went fairly well. By that point, I'd been informed that my leg was not straight and it might need to be straightened. While those practices did help convince me that maybe my surgeon had a point, I remembered the frightening descriptions of life with a frame from On Writing and more or less ignored that possibility. I then went to the first official practice of the season. I learned that I would be unable to do fencing and other cherished activities (i.e., answering trivia questions for points, working on the school literary magazine). And that was the end of my fencing career.
Well, the end of my fencing career until Monday. For the past three school years, I have diligently shown up to sports practices and done my best to participate. Generally, those practices have formed some of my favorite parts of the school year. Because of my future friend the frame, I could very well not be able to go to any practices as an athlete capable of general movement, such as walking without crutches. Which is why I decided to go to the final fencing captains' practice. No commitment, because it was captains' and the coaches wouldn't be there. And because my leg would be frame-free, I would be able to do the exercises.
That was the plan, at any rate.
After classes got out on Monday, I wandered around the school for a little bit, glancing around. The school has a wheelchair lift into the math wing, which looks quite impressive but probably will not fit a wheelchair with a full leg extension. I watched that in action. Then I wandered down to the gym, changed, started practice.
I'm not going to get into a list of mundane specifics of what happened during practice. There were stretches, including some which involved standing on one leg (I'm not that balanced, tragically). There was a dodgeball-like game (yes, running…I started off just fine but quickly tired; oddly enough, it wasn't the leg that was causing me trouble but my hip which was feeling questionable—I'm hoping that the hip troubles reflect a lack of conditioning rather than joint problems). There were crunches (though not good at crunches, I love them dearly).
And then there were the frog hops. Frog hops can basically be described as what you do when you decide to emulate your inner frog in the quest for stronger leg muscles. You squat down, push off using both legs, hope your move forward, repeat, repeat, repeat. The team was told to go across the gym (short way) and back four times.
I made it across the gym and back once. Though my inner frog is apparently not a particularly graceful jumper, being somewhat uncoordinated and with the barest conception of what a real frog in motion looks like, I felt pleased with myself. Athletic participation? Instant triumph.
Round two. I start going. My leg was not feeling good. My mind was shouting about the frame being inserted into my leg within the next several months.
Long story short, I didn't make it all the way across. I stopped halfway to the finish line and stumbled the rest of the way, collapsing onto a chair. At that moment, frog hops joined the List of Activities Which Do Not Agree With Crooked Legs, a list which includes running for more than very long, wall sits for more than very long, squats, squat-jumps and fencing (and others which I am yet to subject myself to).
I more or less sat out the rest of the practice. While everybody else was finishing frog hops, I leaned against the wall to stretch my leg. My left leg (straight) is capable of being stretched. The right leg (not straight) is decisively less capable, probably because of its flawed geometry.
Which is to say, I made an honest effort at attending an athletic practice as a person capable of walking. It just could have gone a bit better.
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