A Thousand Laps or A Mile?

In my youth, whenever I did something particularly wretched instead of being sent to my room or put in time out my parents had me run laps around our house. The laps can probably be pinpointed to the time my mom gave me a five-minute time out and I sassed her saying I didn’t care because I would just tell myself a story.

Let me be clear, now that I am grown and have learned all there is to learn about life, I’m glad my parents made me run laps. What a wonderful opening to a sports movie this would be if I had grown up to be an Olympic Marathoner. Although I am no Olympian, I tell you this, my children will run laps, their children will run laps, and a millennia from now my offspring’s, offspring’s, offspring will be doing laps on the moon.

Here follows a list of my grievances and their corresponding laps.

Offense: Eating unauthorized snacks outside the kitchen

Punishment: 3 laps

My favorite thing to do is also my greatest vice. I love to snack. Not just snack though…I like to lounge and snack. There is no greater joy to me than kicking back with a cold soda and a granola bar/cookies/cheez its/etc in a place not initially designed for eating to occur. When I was younger I used to like to take breaks from my hectic adolesence by sneaking some kind of treat and soda up to my room and enjoying it while reclining on my inflatable purple chair in my room. However it was (actually technically still is) against the rules to eat food outside the kitchen in the Fisher household. And it was extra against the rules to eat snacks that were specially bought for school lunches. So anytime I got caught eating outside the kitchen (which was everytime) I had to run laps around the house. This was a minor offense and usually I was only sentenced to about 3 laps which is the maximum amount of laps I would run without walking at the strategic corners where I thought my mom couldn’t see me walking (I was wrong). If I got caught walking it added an extra lap.

Offense: Use of Foul Language

Punishment: Laps dependent on word used. Also, soap in mouth.

This one is pretty self explanatory…get caught saying a bad word…you’re gonna be runnin’ kid.

S words-3 laps

B words-4 laps

F words-5 laps

GD-6 laps

Offense: Sneaking TV on a school night

Punishment: 5 laps if regular TV. 6 laps if MTV.

No TV on school nights was a hard line in the Fisher family in my day. I say in my day because my inside sources (my sisters) have revealed to me that the lockdown on weekday media has somewhat lessened of late. And in all fairness my sisters are much better at math than I was. Anyway, we were not allowed to watch TV on school nights but occasionally beautiful windows of opportunity would present themselves where I could sneak 20 minutes here and there. Like when my mom would go running and leave me in charge…or when she would go to the grocery store and leave me in charge. The second my mom left I would run to the basement turn on the TV really low and sit as close to it as possible all while being on high alert for the sound of the garage door opening signaling the return of my mother. You will note that I was not on high alert for cries of distress from the younger siblings of whom I was supposedly “in charge of”… As with my snacking I got caught 98% of the time I tried to sneak television. The time I got caught watching MTVs Real World I had to run an extra lap (but it was Real World Paris so it was WORTH IT)

Offense: Lying about having to watch TV on a school night for a school project.

Punishment: 8 laps. Dear America books taken away for a week.

One time when I was around 9 I told my mom I HAD to watch an episode of “The Secret World of Alex Mack” for a school project. I came up with the incredibly elaborate lie that my 4^th grade teacher Mrs. Costello wanted my class to watch the show to learn more about acting in order to prepare for the class play we would be putting on the following month. I even went so far as to make up a fake certification slip that my parents had to sign to show that I had in fact watched that night’s episode. Luck was not on my side that day…apparently despite my Mavis Beacon typing skills there is a distinct difference in writing style between a seasoned 4^th grade teacher and a conniving 9 year old. I had to run 10 laps for that bungled attempt at deception. Running anything over 6 laps was always tricky. I had a neighborhood image to maintain and I looked like a real looney tune running circles in my yard. So whenever I had to run an excessive amount of laps I would pretend like I was playing tag with my siblings...making sure to yell out as I turned a corner something like "Stop cheating! Mom, Maggie's cheating!"

Offense: Refusal to clean the basement.

Punishment: 10 laps. Have to clean by myself.

My basement in Atlanta was awesome. It was just one wide stretch of carpet that spanned the entire length of our house. It was filled with every toy imaginable for ages 10 and under. Legos, Lincoln logs, hot wheels, Fisher-Price kitchens, play houses, dolls, dress up clothes, wiffle ball bats, super soakers, oh how the list goes on….And it was also always an enormous disaster. Twice a year my siblings and I would have to do a massive cleaning and organizing blitz on our basement wonderland and it SUCKED. Twice a year we would cry and beg to not have to do it and twice a year my dad would say “Fine, then we’ll just throw everything away.” That threat usually got me cleaning real fast until my 8^th year when I had truly refined the art of argument and manipulation. I decided that it was unfair that, I a mature 8 year old should have to clean the basement alongside my little siblings (they made most of the mess anyway.) So instead of cleaning I delegated tasks to all my siblings. Johno was on block and vehicle detail. Maggie was on weapons (of the nerf variety) and video collection. Maryanne was in charge of dress-up organiztion…which was pretty ridiculous because she was two. Lizzie, my youngest sister was not born yet, which means there were still chores to be done and I certainly wasn’t going to do them. So I snuck out the basement door and went to tell my friends playing kickball in the cul-de-sac that if they didn’t come help us clean they wouldn’t be allowed to come over and play anymore. And that is where my plan unraveled. There were too many cooks in the basement. My parents came down to find half the neighborhood tidying the basement with me sitting on the play house dictating from on high. They sent everybody outside (including my brother and sisters) and made me clean the rest of it by myself. I even had to vacuum! Then I had to run 9 laps. Which effectively blew the lid off of my “playing tag” charade since my siblings were playing SPUD with everybody else on the driveway. I was clearly just running in circles by myself. That was the most laps I ever had to run…until my deepest shame, the worst thing I ever did.

Offense: The Worst Thing I Ever Did

Punishment: 1000 laps

When I was 10, my parents were out of town and my grandmother had come in to watch the five of us. They had also hired a babysitter to come in and help on the weekend to watch “the little girls” (Maryanne and Lizzie) while my grandma shuttled “the big three” (Me, John, and Maggie) to our various sporting events. This was during the artist phase of my life. I had gotten a set of acrylic paints for my 10^th birthday whilst in the throes of an artistic fever that lasted a total of 3 weeks. It was a rainy afternoon and at a loss of what to do I decided to take up the old brush again. However I couldn’t find a paintbrush…or canvas…so like any good artistic prodigy I created my own tools. I decided to create a haunting memorial to my youth by finger painting a self portrait and signing it with my handprints…on the wall of my closet. I then proceeded to make one helluva a mess in the bathroom while trying to wash my hands. I of course abandoned the mess and went outside to play the second the sun came out. Later that day my grandmother discovered the mess and gathered the big three together to ask who had done it. I said it was Maryanne. My grandmother believed me (probably because I was named after her and Joan’s don’t lie)…and fired the babysitter, assuming it was neglect on her part for allowing a 3 year old to get into acrylic paints. I held onto my lie for about 12 hours with the guilt eating me alive. After stress eating two waffles at The Waffle House I finally came clean. My grandmother’s disappointment was heartbreaking and the apology call I had to make to the babysitter was mortifying but the anticipation of how many laps I was going to have to run when my parents heard about this was an all consuming dread. That Sunday when my parents returned, after the family meeting, my parents doled out my punishment. I could run a thousand laps around the house or go run a mile with my dad. I picked the latter. The next morning, at 5 AM my dad woke me up and I ran with him all the way to the “top of the neighborhood.” It was the first time I ever ran a mile. I would never have to run laps again. Because after my great shame I was perfect. Just Kidding. The next year I stole a pack of gum from Publix.