THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, August 28, 1994 TAG: 9408280051
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: NORTH CAROLINA
SOURCE: ANNE SAITA
LENGTH: Medium: 69 lines
Sometimes great things come of really bad hair days.
Last Saturday, about 30,000 strands refused to put up with my ponytail holder and staged a walkout.
It was no wonder, really. I'd been tearing at my hair for days while tending to last-minute details for Race to the Start, a 4-H fitness festival.
Since January, five dedicated Clover Patch II parents, Pasquotank County 4-H Agent Pat Shepherd and I had worked to create Elizabeth City's first foot-race festival for elementary school children. One of the H's in the 4-H logo stands for health, and we thought a gala promoting individual fitness and the start of a new school year was ideal for an annual fund-raiser.
American children now watch an average of seven hours of television daily, and an alarming 54 percent of them are considered obese. The Clover Patch II group wanted to introduce active ways for our children to control calories and cope with stress.
All children in the six-county Albemarle area were invited to attend ``Race to the Start,'' and 42 of them took us up on the offer. It was the perfect-size crowd for our inaugural run at the Northeastern High School athletic complex.
I'm still not sure just how I came to be the race director, but I was glad to do it. That is, until the deadline drew near. My reputation, along with more than $1,500 in community contributions, was on the line.
Sleepless nights and soda-and-Twinkie dinners became a regular part of my life. My worries intensified about the same time the rains did.
Came the crucial Saturday, though, and there were blue skies and a faint cool breeze, perfect for our competitors.
Our little runners, ages 5 to 12, all performed beautifully during the 100-yard dash and the quarter-mile run around the high school track.
A few of us adults had to choke back tears at the looks of determination and then delight that our children wore.
We also awarded plenty of praise and prizes to the youngsters who did their best at five different exercises, such as push-ups and jumping jacks.
I couldn't have been more proud of the friends, the 4-H clubs and train master Bruce Seaberg, all of whom provided our guests with free food, fitness stations, puppet shows, children's games, balloons, clowns, face painting and a train display.
It wasn't until after I had my picture taken with our two special guests, Manteo High School track coach Bill Brobst and the Duke University men's track coach, Al Buehler, that I took an inventory of my appearance.
My hair, if you'll pardon the expression, looked like hell.
I tried to retrieve the parts that had formed a disorganized picket line around my head, but I guess a little dissension is expected when you've neglected yourself for so long.
I suddenly thought of all those parents sitting in the stadium bleachers. All those friends and family members who helped out. And all those little faces, beaming after being rewarded with a gold medal.
All had watched me wearing the world's worst hairdo.
Then I remembered the little boy, about 8 years old, with flushed face and labored breathing as he struggled toward the finish line. He came in next-to-last.
``I won!'' he yelled to his mom, who was still clapping for him and the others. ``I never thought I could run that far!''
That's the child the race was designed for. That's the feeling we wanted all our entrants to leave with. That child's mom is the parent we hope will encourage her child to stay active and watch less TV.
And come to think of it, that's the kid whose hair looked almost as bad as mine. by CNB