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Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Lots of Icy Hot

During my final semester at college I decided to leave my cozy restaurant job when one of my brother's friends approached me with a part time job I couldn't refuse.  He wanted me to be a spotter at the local cheer leading and gymnastics gym.  It paid pretty good and I figured it would be a cake job because all he told me I would have to do is stand around while him and the other coaches taught hour long classes.  I would just help spot the girls and make sure they didn't fall on their necks.

For the first two weeks that's exactly what happened... Girls from the ages of 5-18 would come in for their class and I would be the spotter while the other guys coached.  The problem was that not all the girls were technically gymnast and in typical gymnast shape, some of them were fatties and just taking the classes because their parents were making them.  Now I'm not a small guy but after the third day of spotting some of these hippos while they did back hand springs and cartwheels I could barely life my right arm.  It was so painful... I went home every night and lathered up in Icy Hot.  I was starting to wonder if I should have just stayed at my old job but after those first couple of weeks the pain went away and I found better ways to spot the heavies.  However, things were about to go from bad to worse because I was then told that they were short on instructors and I would teaching my own hour long classes... Those poor children.

Clearly I have no background in gymnastics and in no way am  I qualified to teach others... I can't even do a cartwheel and here I am coaching 5-18 year olds how to flip and tumble around.  I did what anyone would do and just starting winging it.  This worked for about a couple of weeks but then kids were starting to notice that I never demonstrated any of the moves the way the other coaches did.  I was a FRAUD... and these kids were on to me.  I would start to sweat and then mumble something about an old gymnastics injury to the part of the body required for the move.  The most uncomfortable thing about this was that they had a waiting room behind a glass wall where all the parents could watch their kids go through the class.  Kinda awkward... how could I look myself in the mirror every morning knowing I was a fake gymnast??  I eventually had to quit, the con was up. 

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