Reflections of a Grady Doctor: Cloudy with a chance of medals.

I have this conversation no less than three times per week:

Them: "Track and field?"

Us: "Yup."

Them: "So. . . .Zachary runs. . . like. . . track? Like. . . little kid track? I didn't even known that existed."

Us: "Yup. It exists."

Them: "That's crazy."

Us: "Not as crazy is you'd imagine, to be honest. But it is kind of a larger time commitment than other sports we've played."

Them: "So. . .what's it like? I mean. . . . little kid track?"

Us: "Well let's see. It's actually a lot like big people track. Except with a bunch of little kids in spikes."

Them: "Wow."

Us: "Yup."

No exaggeration.

Those clouds hung over our meet all morning today. Zachary was so nervous that his heats would get rained out. He warmed up with his teammates in the prep area with high knees and organized stretches. I overheard him asking his mates a few times, "Do you think I'll get to run?"

And his older, wiser eight year-old teammate answered with the resolve of Yoda. "Yeah, you'll get to run, Zack. I think it's gonna hold off until later."

Oh. Did I mention? At track and field, we are Zack. With a 'k.'

Uuuuhhh, yeah. . . . .okay.

Finally over the loud speaker:

"Calling all eight and under boys for the 100 meter and 200 meter sprints."

Eight year-old Yoda looked at my son and said, "Come on, Zack. Let's go get after it."

What "getting after it" looks like

Which is exactly what they did.

***

BTdubs. . . . no one caught me on video doing the "THAT'S MY BAAAAY-BEEEHHH!" proud-mama-funky-chicken-dance on the other side of the gate during this race . . . . but here's a reenactment in case you needed to see it for effect: