I don't know what got me thinking about this, but tonight I remembered one of the most monumental annual days of the year as an elementary student: field day.

I don't know about you, but Bell had a BOMB field day. The most vivid memories I have of field day didn't actually take place then, but the night before. I was SO antsy for the next morning to come. Literally. Could-not-sleep. I would wake up at about 5 that morning and be so excited and already bouncing off the walls. Of course one field day was kind of a bummer, my fourth grade year. I woke up at my normal crack of dawn time to hear the pitter-patter of rain outside. Um HELLO how was I supposed to run the third leg of the 4x4 IF IT WAS RAINING? Devastating, I know.

Anyway. The progression of the day went as this: first were the parades with your class flags before the races began (my mom and I had the honor of making mine for Mr. Williams' 3rd grade class- "Mr. Williams' Honey Bees"). My fifth grade year I got to start the races off because I was class president. Yeah that's right. Big deal. Then we would go through the egg toss, sack race, hay hurdles, fox throw, 50 and 100 yard dash. After a quick lunch break we usually went for the tug-o'-war competition held between each of the classrooms. After more events such as turtle races, basketball shoot, and the trading in of tickets for snow cones and sour punch straws came the final event of them all. The mother of all field day events. The 4x4.

In case you aren't knowledgable of the specifics of the 4x4, let me enlighten you. Four boys/four girls (each separate races) of each grade's classes were chosen to run in the race. Each kid would run once around the flagged course and pass off the baton to the next person. Three people later and you've crossed the finish line. But getting chosen to run the 4x4, representing all things holy that is your classroom? DIVINE. I was chosen to run the 4x4 every year of field day. Not to toot my own horn, but uh.... toot toot! I am 99.3% positive that my class won this final race each year.

One of the best feelings is to see your dad cheering for you and coaching you as you run past him to hand off the final baton pass. And winning, of course.