I am so happy I didn’t miss my daughter’s track meet. Because of my business trip, the week the elementary track meet was originally scheduled, I thought I was going to miss it…

They only have 7 of them in their little lifetimes after all and I’ve already missed one due to a job so I was thrilled to see those dark clouds and feel the cool temperature as I drove back from the airport on that Friday afternoon. I had both hands on the wheel, fingers crossed, the car moving at a rate only slightly above the speed limit….thinking all of this would increase my chances of catching the last of the track events if I could….thankfully the whole thing was rescheduled due to inclement weather.

I’ve always loved the grade school track meet. Just the idea of it. I remember when we all used to come from our prospective country schools to the North Bend Jr/Sr High School gym…you know; back in the good ol’ days. The track meet then, was more like an Olympic event bringing us all together…everyone coming in from their different parts of the small world we knew. It was so exciting because you got to scope out boys that weren’t remotely related to you, see old friends and make new ones from schools that seemed light years away. Plus, kids actually competed and won: white ribbon for third place, red for second, and blue for first. I personally don’t remember any sort of participation award….we may have received something like a pat on the back and a “Better luck next time kid.” , which was nice. Back then, if you didn’t win; you lost and tried harder the next time, plain and simple. Kind of like life: sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, but you all get to play, everyone gets a chance.

From my recollection, we began preparing as soon as the snow melted. We competed amongst ourselves in each event and the teachers decided who had the most prowess in which three events and from then on, we individually focused on our three events. Somehow, at least one of my “specialties” always involved throwing either a softball or a football through a suspended tire or flinging that heavy shot put ball as far as I could. It was my view at the time, being more often than not the smallest of the children…success in any of these events, was a crap shoot at best, no matter how much I practiced. I must have been one lucky kid to have ended up with those events most of the time, yeah, I’m sure it was a case of luck….no “last resort” or “bottom of the barrel” decisions going on at all.

I was never a fast child but I’ve always been very close to the ground. I usually excelled enough at being short, to be placed in the potato race or whatever they called that event which involved having to dash about 50 feet pick up a potato (in our case, an erasure) off of the ground, run it back to the start and repeat that process a few times until all of the chalkboard dusters were on the same side of the finish line. Extremely exciting business for a shy girl.

I remember fondly the days of the potato sack races as well, I think we all had the pleasure of participating in that one at one time or another. Back before Americans became so concerned about the hazards of maiming innocent children’s legs with these burlap, portals of destruction… Wasn’t jumping around in those used, spud sacks the best of times? I’ve purchased a few and I use them for parties and babysitting. It’s my view that we should all slip a gunny sack over our legs and hop around every once in a while…..I promise it will make you laugh…I’m always on the hunt for original stress relievers…this one takes the cake, just imagine yourself doing it. Ladies: I suggest considering a two-bra-minimum before attempting this stunt. We all grew up participating in those races as well as the three legged race….a valiant display of teamwork if I ever saw one…it’s a wonder any one of us can walk. I’ve never heard of anyone having to repair a torn meniscus because of a potato sack injury…yet this innocent fun is not allowed anymore…such a pity.

Don’t forget the greatest competition of all: The Tug of War! I don’t know what it was about this simple competition, the final game, the meeting of the bulkiest, strongest, scrappiest of the bunch, but wow did it get the crowd’s blood pumping! I can feel the rope burns, the burning in my legs and arms from the straining on the rope, the all-out effort of the team. The “Heave-Ho, Heave-Ho, Heave-Ho” coming from our captain, the anchor: almost always a girl, thanks to nature’s cruel hand we almost always out-weighed the boys in the 5^th and 6^th grades, in the case of the tug of war, it worked to our advantage. The anchor started the chant but then the rest of the school joined in and eventually, the crowd…”HEAVE-HO!!!, HEAVE-HO!!!, HEAVE-HO!!! I loved watching that red handkerchief as it wavered to the right of center then to the left and back and forth and back and forth before one side began inching toward victory. Slowly, just a slight shuffle back of the shoes in unison, gave us the confidence we needed when we didn’t think we had anything else left. Then it happened; the other side started coming up out of there seated positions, up to middle, and then leaning, ever-so-slightly forward. They were still grimacing with everything they could muster, trying so hard but beginning to lose faith that anything but forfeit was possible. I must have been in the front position on a few occasions because I can visualize, to this day, the transformation in their faces as the hope of a win drained from their expressions…and suddenly, dramatically, it was all over. Our opponents finally succumbing to the inevitable as we shouted out the consummating: “HO” and yanked them like so many doomed fish on the end of a fisherman’s line. Over, they all stumbled in a bunch, to our side of the line so they could serve us their pride, up close and personal. Sweet victory was ours as we fell back hard on each of our team mates, the one ahead plopping down in the lap of the one behind until we were all in a heap; a veritable landslide of triumphant school spirit. The cheering of the crowd was deafening.

Now that’s competition, that is the proper way to end a school year and start a fantastic summer vacation!

I’m almost certain the “Slipper Kick” is equally as exciting for our kids today.

Then the ice cream…the best things in life never change.