Track Meet
Waiting to huck some softballs
I spent a good part of each of the past two Saturdays volunteering at a charity track meet in town. This wasn't some big competitive event with runners in spikes and zealous parents toting oversize cameras, just a charity meet for kids from all over the county to try their hands and feet at running, the long jump, and a softball throw. It was for kids ages 1-14, you know, the pre-serious-competitive-running ages, which meant some good times:
- 1-year olds being asked to "throw the ball to daddy!" who simply carried the ball over.
- Unsteady, uncomphrehending 2-year olds with arms out trotting desperately after parents stumbling backward in the 100-meter dash.
- A veritable army of ponytailed tomboy girls popping bubblegum and sassing the scorekeeper (me).
- Bluster-filled boys all claiming to be able to whup each other.
- Crock-pot hot dogs for a dollar and root beer popsicles for fifty cents!
I spent my time out on the football field at the softball throwing station, writing down names and throwing distances. These two were my compadres:
That's "This is the scar from my tendon surgery" Greg on the left and "C'mon sister, pop me in the nose!" Ronny on the right. Greg and I bonded over the superiority of long-distance running over sprinting. Ronny and I bonded because, well, I'm female.
R: You're new around here, right?
S: Yep! Moved here in October.
R: Married?
S: Nope.
R: In a relationship?
S: Not really. Sort of.
R: ALRIIIIGHT!!
Two LOL moments:
L: The way a kiddie race SHOULD be run. Line 'em up and let 'em go however they please.
R: A new use for the big plastic letters implanted into the slope bordering the football field.