Now the 9-year-old girls are up. They all seem to wear earrings and jangly bracelets and they all jump on "set," receiving a stern lecture from Wade, who decides to change his litany.
At the finish line, timers and pickers are trying to keep up with the rapid-fire races. The confusion is aggravated by the parents, friends and siblings who descend on the track to congratulate or console.
All around, beneath the shouting, quiet prerace consultation continues. Somebody's always pulling a kid aside and whispering.
Ten-year-old boy, arm around a kid who clutches a white ribbon from the 5-year-old long jump: "Now, Matthew, in the 70-yard dash, start out kinda slow. Jog. And I'll be with you. I'll be on the side, and I'll tell you when to hit it, O.K.?"
Mother trying to persuade 4-year-old daughter to run the 440, enlists aid: "Kristin, you've run it. Tell Lisa. It isn't hard, is it?"
Four-year-old Lisa, later, to her pal Jon Guldager: "Are you rootin' for me or for the other guys?"
Jon: "For the other guys."