Spiked by a memory...

The weather we are experiencing in the Lou brings back the same memories for me, year after year. I am 13 years old. It is the first day of track practice. Coach Massie expects so much out of me. Where is the Atomic Balm?

I ran the 400 dash and the first leg of the 1600 relay in both 7th and 8th grade. And you might think it was merely junior high track, but it was something serious. My dad, who was the superintendent of the high school where we held our home meets, would step onto the football field and literally follow me around the track, screaming my name from inside the chainlink fence. His chant still haunts me to this day. "Come on, Kate! Come on, Kate!" I'm kind of joking, but I'm kind of not.

Eventually, I grew up and out and around, and I wasn't the nimble little trackster that I was in junior high. I didn't even think about running in high school. But this weather, 13 years later, still brings on the same bouts of nerves that always overwhelmed me before a race. I have butterflies in my tummy just thinking about it.