I too give a little extra bounce in my stride for her benefit.By the third mile we are both very sweaty. Sandy's top is almost transparent, her nipple... clearly visible. We have come out of the grove of trees and are now in the middle of the tall grass meadow. There is still a mile and a half to go.Suddenly, Sandy reaches out and takes my hand. Smiling, she leads me into the tall grass about twenty-five yards from the path. Stopping, Sandy pulls her shirt off and then her shorts. I begin. Every so often some kid would reach out his hand for a plaque and his mom or dad would yell out something that would echo and the kid would look up. Their expressions were always the same -- trying to look embarrassed, but actually pretty happy. I knew the feeling; my Mom could make me feel that way every time she'd shout out my name at a Little League game or point me out in a school play.I guess I was feeling pretty down by the time my turn came. Maybe I was even crying a little, I don't. More

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