We were at that wonderful park that I described on National Picnic Day. It was a mini-reunion for my high school friends. There were about fifteen of us sprawled over my picnic rug, eating miscellaneous food and chatting.

About 100 metres from our picnic, a group had set up a large white marquee. It looked like a corporate function — who else could afford to hire caterers and a jumping castle? It looked like great fun. Adults and kids teamed up to play tug-o-war, three-legged races and egg-in-spoon races.

“Oh, look!” Gurpreet exclaimed. “They’re going to have a sack race!”

We watched as the kids grabbed their sacks and hopped in.

“I wonder if you have to hop in the sack or if you can walk?” Gurpreet mused.

A parent waved a flag and the race began. Kids clutched onto their bags and bounced towards the finish line. Suddenly, one boy zoomed ahead of the struggling pack. I was amazed. How could he go so fast?

We looked down and saw his little feet propelling him from under the sack. That wasn’t a sack! The boy had wrapped hessian around his waist and was running towards the finish line!