by EM RUSCIANO
When I was a kid I was a gun track athlete.
Yep. I refuse to cut my tall poppy teenage self down. It’s just how it was.
I trained like a possessed work horse and reaped the benefits of that. I won my first national title at the age of ten and continued to be the one of the best hurdlers (and best high jumpers for a period of time) in the country for my age group.
That all ended around the time I turned 18. I was competing at the state aerobic championship (Grand Father Ted affectionately called me the “over-achieving little shit”) and managed to tear both my hamstrings while completing some aggressive high kicks. You know, the ones where they throw their legs up in between outstretched jazz hands, all while smiling maniacally.
After that, my athletic career came to an abrupt halt as torn hamstrings (we’re talking nearly off the bone) and stress fractures in the spine (from over training) are basically impossible to come back from. This also killed off my dream of a Sydney Olympic berth.
For 15 years I busied myself with other things. Giving birth blah blah, Australian Idol blah blah, radio shows, giving birth again, oh and getting married blah blah. All of that was just a build up, the support act, the ENTREE to me making my magnificent athletic comeback. And now it has happened.