An Unfair Advantage

Here’s what they told us: ten laps around the goal posts was exactly one mile; and twelve laps was equivalent to two kilometres (since our gym teacher also taught math and was supposed to be teaching us the metric system that year); and that all of this effort was in preparation for our “timed run” where we’d soon discover the maximum distance we could cover in ten minutes using nothing but our skinny, hairless legs. Except that later Tony confessed he’d spent his final lap farting, and wondered if the resulting propulsion might not have given him an unfair advantage.

Floor Hockey

Floor hockey was one of the few games I was any good at. The rules were pretty much the same as regular hockey, except you played in the gym, with a thick ring of felt about the size of a dinner plate and sticks that had no blade. Our puck looked official enough, but there was no money for sticks, and Mr. Mason told us that, if we wanted to play, we’d better bring in a broomstick or something from home.
     I’d like to see Mr. Mason ask my mother to give up a broom she’d paid good money for.

Photo of John “Apples” MacKay by Ed Carter, from the Earl Haig Fabulous ’50s Group.

Mr. Mason

Mr. Mason was the only gym teacher I ever had. Until grade six, our regular teachers did the job, herding us all outside to play kickball or something, but in grade six they handed us off to Mr. Mason, who made us change into shorts—no matter the season—and run laps. In grade seven, he started teaching us all about sex and health. In grade eight, I asked him why the skin on my feet was peeling so much. He laughed and said I was probably going to die. And I decided not to take gym in grade nine.

 Photo by Manu Pombrol on Flickr. All rights reserved.

Douglas Clarington’s Penis

Occasionally, after a particularly strenous gym class, Douglas Clarington’s penis would arrive in the showers just a little before him.
     There wasn’t much down there to be particularly proud of. In fact, under any other circumstances, it should’ve been the subject of ridicule; but no one dared be the first to point it out, because we all knew the penalty for looking at that sort of thing, even though everyone was.
     And so, in a way, I had to admire Doug’s courage. I’d have sooner run another ten or twelve laps than walk naked past my classmates with a stiffy.

Back to the Beach

This story ends sometime in the summer with my mother and me wandering in different directions on the beach at Ward’s Island.
     It begins in September, probably Grade Seven, when gym class changed, and Mr. Mason had us running laps, whatever the season, practising for our timed run around the goal posts at opposite ends of the field.
     Then back to the beach, where I saw my mom in the distance and decided to show her what I could do, and so ran all the way . . . the first time I actually enjoyed it, but the last time I did it.

Click here to read more entries in the popular Mr. Mason Suite.