In middle school, I played volleyball, which helped to keep my weight in check at least a little bit.
I loved the actual game and even made the A team, but I hated the running.
I was always the slowest, I always finished last, huffing and puffing, needing tons of walk breaks, even just during the warm-up laps. I could block, bump, and spike like nobody’s business, but I remember always feeling second best because I was the girl who had to take the highest number of uniform because the numbers correlated to the size.
High number = big uniform.
It was like my weight was being announced to everyone, wearing my shame on the outside.
I played tennis from my freshman through junior year of high school and, again, really enjoyed the sport, but abhorred the running. Our coach was a middle-aged guy who could run circles around me. The entire team would have finished their laps around the field, while I was still stumbling along next to the (also middle-aged) assistant coach, who I’m quite sure they sent in as an attempt to get me to run faster.
It was ineffective.
But because of the regular exercise, I did start losing some weight.