Three hours ago I had about thirty-six hours in which to make a decision as to whether or not I would participate in track and field this academic year. If I my name were were LeBron James, I would have reserved a large block of TV time in which to announce my decision, but since I'm not, I'll announce it here. In a normal university situation, this decision would have needed to have been made months ago, but the pickings are a bit slim on my university's team due to a couple of unexpected transfers. I just concluded that I had put the decision off for long enough. I will not be hurdler this year. It's a decision about which I feel great.
I'm too skinny as it is, and a major developmental milestone that most girls reach years before they're my age (18) eludes me. Adding an activity to my daily routine that's going to burn roughly seven-hundred calories every day of practice will not help me to reach this milestone any faster.
I enjoy hurdling, but not enough to put myself though an entire NCAA season of it.
My rationale had been that a year of NCAA athletic participation would pad my medical school application. While there's some truth to that rationale, being alive would also greatly increase my chances of medical school admission. The way my luck has been running lately, I'd have another freak hurdling accident.
If I really wanted to compete, the odds of an unlikely accident would not stand in my way, but since my desire is not all that strong, I'm going with it. Hurdling kills. I want to remain alive. Therefore, I'm not hurdling. if the decision keeps me out of medical school. law school, Federico College of Cosmetology, Groover's College of Mortuary Science, or anything else, I'll live with the consequences.