By Steve Carr

I recently attended the annual sixth grade track meet at Ravsten Stadium in Idaho Falls to watch my niece and nephew compete.

The meet is a rite of passage, the final transition from grade school. It has been a tradition in Idaho Falls for at least forty-five years. This I know because I competed in my citywide sixth-grade meet.

As I sat with my brother in the stands, looking out at a sea of twelve-year-olds, I couldn’t help but notice a few things had changed. Neon bright and beautiful track shoes, all lighter than air, were everywhere—a little different from the dark monochromatic lead-weight sneakers of my day. The track itself now boasts a sophisticated surface, a mixture of asphalt and rubber, far from the red cinder crushed rock that covered the oval a half-century ago.