James is running hurdles in the District Finals today.
The 300m hurdles.
That's 328 yards for us non-metric folk.
It's really almost all the way around the track---which is 1/4 of a mile.
My dear hubby will tell me that 300m is equal to .17 miles.
It's a long way to be running full bore and be jumping hurdles.
The boys run "high" hurdles. They are 30 inches.
James is 62 inches tall.
If you're capable of simple math like me, you can see that the hurdles are almost half his height.
Why the coach thought "James" and "hurdles" in the same thought, I don't know.
It doesn't matter.
The coach knows something about hurdles that I didn't---you don't have to be a very tall person to do well.
James is fast and can jump at the same time.
At the qualifying meet, he placed 5th overall.
The picture below is just an example of a track and hurdle placement.
So why the bizarre title?
Well, I tend to watch hurdles from between my fingers. The wipeouts are so spectacular, in an awful sort of way.
Sports go against every bone in my mommy body. Moms are not allowed to run out on the field in any sporting event and take care of a wounded child. No bandaids are allowed in soccer or track---at least not if they are distributed by a mom.
I know James will do great! I'm looking forward to this meet.
Maybe I can sit on my hands during his race and just squint gently instead.