Jamal stood at the edge of the track. He pulled his hat brim lower to shade his eyes from the glare of the sun. He watched the crowd. Some of the parents gazed silently over at the runners who were getting ready to compete. Other parents sat laughing and talking in the bright afternoon sun. The sun felt good on Jamal's arms. His tee shirt rippled in the warm breeze. Jamal leaned down to tie his shoes before the big race. As his fingers tugged on the laces, suddenly he could see himself back in Annapolis in second grade, trying to tie a very small pair of laces. On that morning six years ago, Uncle Bill had showed up at Jamal's school to watch Jamal run in the May Relay. Jamal had raised his hand in class when the teacher asked, "Who wants to run in the relay race this year?" For Jamal, that was the most exciting experience in second grade. In bed, on many nights before the May Relay, he had thought about it. He had tried to imagine how it would feel to run as fast as he could, as fast as the wind, pumping his muscles and propelling his body around the circle of the track. Then the day had arrived, the day of the big event. Uncle Bill had whispered in his ear, "Running feels good, Jamal. Lift your knees, focus your mind, race along that path." Jamal had felt a surge of love for his uncle. "You're the best, Uncle Bill!" Today, Uncle Bill was far from Jamal's school. No family had come to see Jamal compete on the track today, but the sun warmed his shoulders and he smiled. ",begin italics, Running feels good, Jamal,,end italics," he thought to himself. ",begin italics, Lift your knees, focus your mind, race along that path.,end italics,"