Wednesday, August 1, 2012
I hate field day. Friggin' races. The wheelbarrow. Some dork holding my legs and shoving me along until I nearly get a mouthful of sod when my spindly arms give out.
Oh, or how about the 3-legged race? I was always paired with the equivalent of Wilma Rudolph. A sprinter. Fast. I tried to keep up thinking my leg would otherwise be torn from my hip.
Potato sack race was really great too. Minus the chafing on my legs and ensuing rash.
How about the water balloon toss? Yeah. Fabulous. That's an Olympic sport, right?
All that crap for a lousy, "Field Day 1979" Blue Ribbon. As though I was a champ.