I was never much of an athlete. Whether it was softball, basketball, volleyball, or swimming, the situation was the same. I played every activity, but nothing well. In volleyball, I couldn’t serve; in basketball, I couldn’t make a basket; in softball, I couldn’t get a hit or catch a fly ball. And in swimming, I hated to put my face in the water.
To my chagrin, and perhaps embarrassment, I was one of the last girls chosen for team sports at Pembroke, my Jewish summer camp in Massachusetts. Painful as it was, I accepted my athletic ineptitude. At the same time, I looked with great admiration at my peers who demonstrated the athletic ability I could only dream of.
During those years, when I felt physically inadequate, I read a lot of comic books. I wasn’t particularly interested in Superman, Batman, or Spiderman. My interest was in Mary Marvel and Wonder Woman. They were female and I could identify with them.
One afternoon when I was 11, I decided to make myself a cape. I wanted to emulate the superheroes. I took an old café curtain from the attic, bought iridescent pink ribbon from the five-and-dime, and sewed it all around the edge of the curtain. Then, I attached a safety pin to the ribbon and worked it through the rod opening to make a tie. I had my cape.
I remember feeling a little hesitant. Nonetheless, I tied the ribbon around my neck and went bike riding around my neighborhood, the cape flowing behind me. For a few short blocks, I was the superheroine of my fantasies. No more the weak, unathletic camp girl!
Later, my interest in sports expanded to include Olympic events such as gymnastics, figure skating, ski jumping, and track. Once more, I watched athletically gifted young women and cheered them on. I felt empowered vicariously.
It wasn’t until years later (around the age of 39) that I found a sport that I could do: jogging. I didn’t have to be the best or even great. Thankfully, it wasn’t a team sport. No chance I would be picked last! I could just run and feel good about myself.
Eventually, I ran short races — 3K, 5K. My first race was a mixed bag. I came in last. So while I congratulated myself for completing the race, it reminded me of camp days. I decided I didn’t care if I ever won a race, but I never wanted to come in last again. And, I never did.
The highlight of my jogging career was running a half-marathon in Philadelphia. I trained for months with my friend and running partner. As I was commuting from Maplewood, New Jersey, to my job at national United Jewish Appeal in New York City, I had to get up very early to run. Five a.m. was the usual.
As it turned out, the race was an opportunity to combine my jogging with my Jewish commitment: I wore a shirt, especially printed for the occasion, emblazoned with the message: I run for IDA NUDEL, Prisoner of Zion. The Soviet Jewry movement was heating up, and I was thrilled to call attention to one of my Jewish heroines.
I could hardly believe that I completed the 13.1-mile course. For the first time in my life, I felt like an athlete.
I jogged for many years until I developed plantar fasciitis in both feet. It took one full year for the pain to go away and for me to walk normally again. I was too frightened by the experience to try running again.
It would be some years before I found a substitute sport. By then I was living in Boston and was in my 60s.
It was Zumba, a Latin-inspired fitness program combining music, dance, and exercise. As I had been a ballet dancer as a child, I loved the opportunity to feel like a dancer again. Whether in Boston, where I lived at the time, or later at the J in Tucson, Zumba classes were a joyful experience. I loved the program and was excited every time I went to class.
Then COVID struck. Once more, I was faced with circumstances not of my own making. By now, I was over 80, a widow, and feeling the need to protect my health. No more group exercise classes. Zumba had to go. It was a loss I still feel keenly.
Where am I today? At 87, I am much more sedentary. And not by choice. For the last year, I have experienced periodic back pain that has impacted my life in a negative way. Once again, I am looking longingly at my peers who are able to run, hike, dance and play tennis. But that will never be me. I cannot stand too long nor walk down from Sabino Canyon as I so loved to do. Of course, Zumba is out of the question.
Instead, I try to be thankful that my head still works and to keep as active as my body allows.
And so life has come full circle …
As Yogi Berra would say, “It’s déjà vu” all over again.
Judith Manelis is a writer, editor, and journalist whose work has appeared in American Jewish newspapers and magazines. Her book “This Shall Tell All Ages: Art, Music and Writings of the Holocaust” was published by United Jewish Appeal
Editor’s note: For updates on the JCC Maccabi Games, happening through Aug. 1 in Tucson, follow the @tucsonjcc and @jccmaccabitucson on social media.
