Training for the sixth grade olympics

Those were the words spoken by my big brother as he looked down from his comfortable perch on the back porch while I attempted to throw a borrowed ten-pound kettlebell from one clothesline post to the other.

“Nothing worthwhile is ever easy,” professed John as he recollected a story about his days as a fourth grade gridiron baller. “That’s what my midget football coach in Bentleyville used to tell me when I couldn’t throw the pigskin far enough down field; and I was ready to throw in the towel as a quarterback.”

“Since sitting in the bleachers was not an option for me, I put my nose to the grindstone until successfully making contact with a receiver in the end zone,” he added while reminiscing about his past exploits.

This kettlebell is too difficult to handle!

“Quit whining and do something about it,” suggested the accomplished athlete when attempting to light a fire under my hindquarters. “Instead of making excuses, you should be grateful Dirk Arkwright was willing to lend you a piece of his workout equipment; so, why don’t you show him some appreciation by doing your very best.”

I’m not whining!

Shortly after my lifelong roommate goaded me like an ornery cow, I lobbed the cast-iron ball with a handle attached to the top across the yard situated between the Cape Cod-style house and cinderblock garage before hitting the other makeshift goalpost on the imaginary football field.

Now you’re cooking with gas!

Ever since learning about the annual Sixth Grade Olympics, I was determined to be among the few Olympians standing atop a three-tiered rostrum to receive a medal – whether it be gold, silver or bronze – for my blood, sweat and tears.

Considering the freckle-faced stripling had several Punt, Pass and Kick trophies – along with another one for a little league baseball championship – on a display case in our dining room, my parents would finally be able to make room for a prestigious award belonging to me; whereupon they would be able to share my success story with honored guests around the dinner table.

It was time for my fifteen minutes of fame!

Of course, I looked like a deer in headlights the day Miss Cathy Pletz – the physical education teacher at Northside Elementary School – informed me that I would be competing in the “javelin throw” and “shot put” at the highly competitive tournament the following month.

My jaw dropped to the floor!

Lucky for me, I had plenty of time to fine-tune my throwing techniques for both of the assigned track and field events during our bi-weekly gym classes over the course of the next four weeks; after which I was paired up with two of my intimate companions – Jeff Olinger and Shane Spielberg – to support one another in our individual endeavors.

While Jeff – who was known for his exemplary leapfrogging skills – was commissioned to perform the long jump as well as the triple jump, Shane – who had a brawny lumberjack build – was delegated to execute both the discus and hammer throw.

Without making any mistakes, this would-be athlete hurled the eight-pound cast iron ball well past the thirty-foot marker as my usual cohorts stood nearby shaking the cobwebs out of their heads.

“How in blue blazes did you just do that,” questioned the lanky adolescent with spectacles upon recalling a verbal exchange during a gym class the previous week. “Without mentioning any names, I distinctly remember someone complaining because they were unable to throw the shot-put half that distance; and they were ready to take their ball and go home.”

Hardy har har!

“I’ve been brushing up on my game,” I revealed prior to retrieving the piece of gym equipment at the opposite end of the field. “After last week’s disastrous practice session, I decided to take matters into my own hands; so, I borrowed a ten-pound kettlebell from one of my teenage friends at church to get in some extra reps.”

“In addition,” I continued with an explanation as to why my assigned task was made considerably easier. “By forcing myself to practice with a heavier makeshift shot put, it made this spherical orb feel like a walk in the park.”

“There’s definitely a noticeable improvement,” observed the strapping preteen after picking up the frisbee-like metal disc for a practice throw. “With your improved throwing techniques, Northside Elementary might have a better shot at bringing home the overall winner’s trophy to put in the display case outside the school office until the following year.”

That would be off the hook!

Following this sixth grade Olympian’s stellar performance with the “shot put” that undoubtedly turned some heads, his counterparts – not to be outdone – proceeded to break the record in each of their own individual events which was set on the first day of practice; so, the unexpected surprise must’ve been the kick in the pants they needed to raise the bar for the competition.

“Thanks a lot, fellas,” I expressed before picking up the lightweight pole to have a go at it. “Due to the fact that youns upped the ante for our practice squad, now there’s a lot of pressure on me to fling that javelin all the way to the swing set; otherwise, I might land in the doghouse.”

Woof! Woof!

“Are you trying to pull the wool over our eyes,” asked the tallest of the bunch as he shoved our comical teammate out of the way. “Considering you almost doubled your distance with the shot put, I’m pretty confident that you’ll do even better with the javelin throw, especially since it weighs a lot less.”

Need I remind you that running is not my strong suit.

Immediately after tripping over my own two feet, I plunged the spear-like object directly into the dirt; whereupon the sandy blond prankster informed me the pole-vaulting practice squad was on the other side of the field.

I chased after my neighbor from up the street prior to catching him for a well-deserved butt noogie.

“I thought you said running wasn’t your strong suit.”