Every basketball star has to start somewhere.

At the end of November, Sarah and I checked out a gym recommended by our teacher that was close to our school. Sarah needed to get in shape for her upcoming leave for the Air Force...and I was wanting to get in shape so that maybe I could play basketball in college? So we both were able to join up until April or whenever she was supposed to leave. Well, for the past couple of weeks I've been the only one out of the two of us actually going to the gym. After changing into my red shorts and t-shirt, I stare at myself in the long mirror. I definitely don't look like a basketball star. Anyone else in that gym who looks at me must be secretly laughing. I'm this pale white girl with spiderweb arms and legs who wears black and white Chuck Taylor shoes (at least I don't wear the red ones). My skin turns very pink while working out. Ah yes, I would laugh if I saw myself from someone else's point of view. It's still fun to observe other people. The owner of a business a couple hundred feet away comes in to walk on the treadmill and use the weight machines. I applied for a job at his business last year and actually came in for an interview. He never called me back about it. I don't know if he remembers who I am, but he's nice and we smile when we cross paths. Then there's the guy who gave me such a great deal on my gym membership, K.C., who says, "Aw, what do you want?" when I enter the gym. There are a few big scary black men. There are young white men with piercings and tattoos. There's a short chunky lady who mistakenly thought I was a cashier at Kroger. "You look just like her!" Then there is the occasional tanned white girl. Then there's Sarah. Okay that was a joke.

After running pathetically on a treadmill close to the business owner who never called me back, I tiredly make my way to the weight machines. I make sure that no one who looks strong is watching me as I change the amount of weights from slot 18 (at the very bottom) to slot 4 on most every machine. I am pleased to find that the business owner who never called me back uses no weights on the crunch machine while my abdominal section lifts 25 pounds on that piece of equipment.

I have met some cool people like K.C., the other guy who works there (I think his name is Jay), and some chick that I just met today. She and I were in the locker room and I asked her how long she had been coming to the gym. We briefly talked and she told me that she had just finished LVN school. She seemed nice.

So the point? I am slowly but surely building strength in my upper, middle, and lower body. And hopefully I am building my stamina. I walk in sporting glasses and Chuck Taylor's, pink spiderweb skin, and a goofy grin. Yeah, I'm gonna be a basketball star.

P.S. Happy birthday Hula. I won't be calling or writing you this time around, but I'll never forget your birthday.