Shared womb sadly does not equal shared talent

Looking back on it, I’m not sure I was very supportive of my twin sister’s athletic goals. I laughed when Lauren said she would run in the Olympics. I scoffed when she bragged about playing for the U.S. National Soccer Team. I gave a particularly hearty guffaw when she insisted I come out for the track team in high school.

See what I mean? Not very nice. But you try sharing a womb for seven months. Any takers?

So I was a turd. There. I admit it. I was especially a turd that time I hit a golf ball straight into her eye with a baseball bat. But it’s not like I meant to do that! I still can’t believe mom grounded me.

Alas, she has gotten the better of me. You see, Lauren Salter is now a track athlete at Division I Northern Arizona University. I am now a part-time writer. Lauren set the high school record in the 4×400-meter relay. I set the school record for most sappy romantic leads in a theatrical career.

Lauren is fast and physically imposing. I am slow and duck-footed. The greatest achievement thus far in my collegiate athletic career is not hurting myself out at the Sunset Recreation courts during pickup basketball games.

For this I believe I deserve a trophy ““ a big shiny one like the 400 or so she has in her room at home.

Lauren is doing everything I wanted to do. I loved sports growing up. I practiced hard and played even harder, with a fire that naysayers might refer to as a “temper.” I call it competitiveness. But I stopped playing in high school. So Lauren is our family’s resident athlete. And you know what?

I couldn’t be prouder.

When I found out she’d be running this weekend at UCLA I nearly keeled over with surprise. You see, until this August I had lived side by side with my sister for 19 years ““ and then poof, she was in Arizona of all places. Weird for me, devastating for her (she still loves me, even after the golf ball incident.) Thus, presented with an opportunity to see my sister run on one of the most famous of collegiate tracks as a certified Lumberjill (NAU’s Lady mascot), I quivered with excitement.

Friday afternoon was beautiful. At the stadium, I felt the ghosts of former Bruin greats: the Jackie Robinsons and Jackie Joyner-Kersees of Westwood lore. Teams were scattered about the stadium, athletes lazily reclining in the warm sunlight. What a privilege for Lauren, to run in the shadows of such legends. What a privilege for me to see her sprinting hard, face contorted, all her concentrated energy expended in a dozen seconds of whirlwind speed and color.

To me, Friday wasn’t about the results for Lauren. I couldn’t have cared less if she never made it to the Olympics or World Cup. I couldn’t have cared less if she had placed last (which she did in one heat; can’t win ’em all, right Lauren?). I would have cheered if she had tripped five feet short of the line … as long as she tripped in style (she made it standing up).

Division I athletics is a plateau many of us will never reach and for the few who do, I applaud. The individual effort and dedication it takes to pursue a sport at that level is incredible. I can’t tell you how proud I am to know that my sister is among this elite group, and to steal some of her glory and use it to draw attention to myself by writing this column.

Only joking, Lauren! And mom, please don’t ground me again.

E-mail Salter at ksalter@media.ucla.edu.

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