dlove_rm's Blog

It was an unusually warm day at the beginning of March. The year was 1982 and I was just an eighth grader enjoying all that life had to offer a young boy in a small town of less than a thousand people. I had friends, was just learning about girls and girlfriends, I had a bicycle and some independence and freedom (my parents let me stay out until sunset). Yes, life was good, even math class was getting easier. What could possibly go wrong?

The answer to that question would come very quickly. Physical Education was the last class of the day. It was done intentionally so that it could lead straight into track practice. As I said earlier, today was an unusually warm day. It was pushing 70 degrees and today was the Presidential Physical Fitness Testing day. The P.E. Coach was pushing all of us to get dressed as quickly as possible and down to the track, we had a lot of testing to get completed today and we all needed to warm up and get prepared.

I was anxious to please back then, long before I became the cynical person I am today, so I was quick to get dressed and was one of the first to the track. Now, despite my current appearance, back in the day, I still couldn’t run for a darn. I was not really “fat” back then, but I have never been considered “athletic”. So I found my accomplishments where I could. Being the first to the track to start warming up was an accomplishment for me. I took pride in this. But my pride would not last for long.

First on the agenda were some warm up stretches and laps. Once those were completed then came the testing. We were divided into 3 groups, the fast group, the medium group and the slow group. Yes, I was in the slow group along with three other guys and the girls all in the slow group. Because of the warm temperatures, the coach had indicated we could run in our gym shorts in we wanted to remove our sweatpants. Our P.E. clothes consisted of, a t-shirt, gym shorts, hooded sweatshirt, and sweat pants. The shoes, socks, and athletic supporter were ours to provide. Since I was not an “athlete” I chose to wear my standard tightie-whitey briefs. On this day, I was very glad I had. For there I was, standing on the starting line, waiting for what seemed an eternity for the coach to blow the whistle to start us. The fast group had gone already, the medium group had just taken off and we were lined up ready to go.

One of my friends leaned over to me and asked, “Dave, isn’t it a bit drafty out here?” I replied that, “Yes it did seem a bit chilly now.” He retorted back, “Dave, you’re in your shorts.” Of course, this was countered quickly with, “Well duh, the coach said we could run in our shorts, so are you.” Suddenly the whistle sounded weakly and I was ready to take off. I was surprised to jump out to the lead and even more surprised that the weak sounding whistle was still going. I looked around and no one else was running. They were all standing around a laughing. Coach was actually rolling on the ground. The weak whistle was him laughing thru the whistle in his mouth. I looked down and to my shock and surprise saw that I was standing there in my underwear. In my haste to get down the track, I had failed to put on my gym shorts under my sweat pants. I was so embarrassed. I quickly found my sweat pants, got redressed, and lined up and coach blew the whistle and we were off. I came in next to last (yes there were others slower than me) but by the time I ended my lap around the track, the coach had recounted the story to all of my classmates and they all were approaching me to ask if I really had done that. What could I say? I couldn’t deny it, I couldn’t call the coach a liar. I had to face up to my blunder. Thank goodness it was all said and done and over. I could now try to live it down and move on with my life.

Except that for the next several weeks, my “friends” would see me in the hallways of the school and make a very discouraging motion towards me, holding up a fist and then popping a finger out and saying “Doing!” every time they saw me. The embarrassment would continue until something else would take it over. Eventually things settled down and classes continued and my excellent grades in mathematics would make me popular enough to help the other students with their homework and get me back to being someone popular and less “Doing”’ed.

It was all in my past, finally to move on. Until the last day of school. It was the famed School Awards day. The day when the certificates for perfect attendance, honor roll, etc. were all handed out. This year, some “prank awards” were presented. And there on the stage was my P.E. Coach to present the award for Streaker of the Year. In front of the entire school, high above his head he held an oversized athletic support dyed a red color (to support our school colors naturally). And my name was being called to the stage. It took well into high school to live that moment down. And I forget the event that made most of my friends forget the award, but I am sure whatever it was, it had something to do with further embarrassment, perhaps it was getting stuck in a tuba, or stuck between the seats of the bus, or any other number of embarrassing moments growing up. To this day, I still get the occasional ribbing from a classmate, or a hometown girl I might be interested in, for winning that red athletic support. And to this day, I am the only known streaker of my hometown. Something that will most likely follow me around for the rest of my life.