Changing in gym clothes,
My sweatpants, my old tee-shirt--
They look as un-athletic as I am,
A sharp contrast to the others’ track outfits.

Running, on pavement around the school,
With each step my stomach churns,
My legs drag a bit more, I inhale air in short gasps.
Sweat glistens on my back.

I am an awkward runner,
A hippo trying to chase after gazelles.
The others drift out of sight,
Far ahead, one by one.

I reach the end, ready to collapse,
To find a game of frisbee has already begun.
I reach out, to catch the spinning orange weapon,
That has just been hurled at me.

I’m too late, plastic and face collide.
The frisbee drops to the ground,
My face throbs, a bruise being born,
And gym class has just begun.