In the spring of his freshman year, in order to impress a girl in his class, Nat decided to go out for track. He knew he wasn’t strong enough for shot putt or discus, and he had neither speed enough for sprints nor endurance enough for longer runs, so that left the long jump, the high jump, and the pole vault. Pole vault looked like it could be fun, and he was relatively light weight, but he couldn’t very well practice vaulting in his backyard, and he didn’t have a pole other than the flimsy length of bamboo in the garage. Similarly, long jump required a lengthy runway. High jump seemed a reasonable compromise between pole vaulting and long jumping, but he’d need something to jump over.

Cardboard boxes seemed a possibility. He lugged some home from the nearby market—it took him three trips—and he stacked the boxes up in the backyard. First jump he tried went well up to a point. He was pretty sure he got high enough, but he came down on top of the boxes, crushing them.

He was about to give up on the high jump when his dad came out to ask what Nat was doing. After Nat’s explanation, his dad said he’d done some jumping in high school, and a set of standards might make a good workshop project. A trip to the lumber store, a few hours in the basement, and his dad had the high jump apparatus complete. By then it was dark, so the first jump would have to wait.

Next afternoon after school, Nat set up the stanchions and place the crossbar at the four foot six inch mark. He retreated some twenty feet, took a deep breath, strode to the bar, planted his foot, and leaped. Almost perfect. His trailing foot nudged the bar and it fell. It fell on his head.

Nat persevered. Six more jumps, but never did he come as close as on his first try.

He was about to go in when his twin sister, Kat, came out. “Mom says it’s time for dinner,” she said. “And what are you doing?”

“High jumping,” Nat said.

“Why?” Kat asked.

“I’m thinking of going out for track.” He put the pegs at five feet and set the bar.

“Is that all you can do?” his sister said.

“You want to try?” Nat scoffed.

Kat scuffed off her shoes, stripped off her shirt, took three steps, and sailed over the bar. She landed on her feet.

Nat decided to try out for tennis.