I was finally next in line. I lowered my Styrofoam cup to the gutter, and dropped Bob in as Kim yelled, "GO!"

Bob raced to the end of the track, but I was dismayed to see him slow before he touched.

Well…let me start a little farther back. Every summer in July for all of my life, my family – my mom, dad, brother and I – travel to Broadwater Lodge on Woman Lake in Minnesota. We stay for a week and enjoy the company of our extended family – my grandparents, De and Joe, my aunt and uncle, Sue and Breck, and my older cousin, Holly.

The resort holds a party day with a barbeque every Friday for the visitors, including a games marathon for the younger children. The kids get the chance to participate in a biggest and smallest fish contest as well as the infamous minnow races. The kids tend to become slightly obsessive about the races and the free candy handed out after them…myself included. But it's all in good fun, as every kid that stays at the resort joins in the minnow races.

One year, when I was about 7, I prepared myself particularly well. I'd even caught my own minnow…the lodge usually provides them, but they have a tendency to die. Anyway, I caught my minnow and named him Bob. A bullheaded minnow, Bob was greenish and spotted with black. Although he was definitely smaller than the rest of them, he made up for what he lacked in size with power. He was raring to win; I could just tell when I caught him.

As I sat eating my lunch at the barbeque before the races were to begin, I shivered from anticipation. After finishing my ice cream, I decided that I would just skip the rest of lunch and go get Bob from our cabin. I dumped my paper plate in a conveniently placed trashcan and walked, barefoot, down the beach. Once I reached the docks at the edge of the water, I climbed up onto them to continue my path, feeling the gritty sensation of sand beneath my feet. A few minutes later, I arrived at the front door of our rented cabin named the Chalet. I pushed open the door, ignoring the gigantic spider on the doorknob, and hurriedly wiped my feet on the floor mat. I said a quick hello to my aunt, Sue, and darted for the stairs. Once upstairs, I took a rapid left on the carpet to enter my room. Sure enough, Bob was swimming around peacefully in his bucket on my bedside table. I gave a sigh of relief and continued across the room.

Ten minutes later, I sat nervously on the sundeck, back at the beach with Bob clutched in a Styrofoam cup in my hand, listening to Kim talk. Kim is the owner of Broadwater and the father of a friend of mine, Lauren.

"Okay, so when I say go, I want you guys to let your little minnows into the tracks. You can cheer them on and make as much noise as you want, but you can't touch the water or bang the sides of the gutters."

"Come ON, Kim, I've already heard this a million times! I want to race!" I thought.

"Alrighty, then. I guess we're good! Start forming lines in front of the gutters. No pushing, now!" Kim stood back in dismay at the writhing mass of kids before him. "No pushing, I said!"

I had the sudden impulse to cry in frustration when I was pushed to the end of my line. That second, I looked down at Bob. I could have sworn he smiled at me. When I think back to that moment now, I know logically that couldn't have happened. But I'm older now, and at that age, Bob was the vote of confidence I needed.

No more than five minutes later, I was next in line. Shivering in anticipation for this one moment, I lowered Bob's Styrofoam cup to cold lake water. What seemed like years passed before I heard Kim's voice shout, "GO!" and I tipped the cup over.

As Bob raced heroically towards the end of the track, beating all of his opponents, I felt my hopes rise. Just as soon as he'd taken the lead, he was passed by another minnow. I felt my hopes fall. But then, suddenly, Bob sped up again. He was going to win! I felt my hopes rise again. Just then, my hopes were confirmed: I was into the finals!

I backed away from the tracks with my Styrofoam cup. Walking to the end of the gutters, I jumped over to recapture the victorious Bob. For a dreadful five minutes, I waited in agony for the final races to begin. Finally, it was time.

I got back in line with my competitors, wishing them luck. Making sure to get the same gutter as before, I made my way to the front of the lines. Gutter number seven was sure to be good luck.

I dug my toes nervously into the damp sand. For the second time in ten minutes, I lowered Bob's cup to the track. "GO!" I heard, and instinctively dumped the water and Bob out onto the track.

Bob, my valiant minnow, raced like a dart to the end without a pause. He was out for the blue this time – the blue first place ribbon. Bob's nose touched the end of the metallic gutter and made a first place winner out of the both of us. I still have the blue ribbon proudly displayed on the bulletin board in my room.

Sadly, both the free candy and Bob were gone within an hour of our victory. I had to let Bob go, because he would never have survived the 12-hour trip back to Iowa. Besides, I thought he deserved to live a free life again. The candy…well, I bet you can guess where that went.