"We can't use bare feet."

Third son came home from school yesterday, hysterical. 
     Between sobs and sniffles, he managed to tell me he didn't want to run in his school's cross-country and he wanted to stay home that day.
     Something was amiss.  Third Son loves running. He is my only child who will come walking with me when I go for long walks and half the time he runs.  So I asked the obvious question.
     "Mum, we gotta wear shoes.  We can't use bare feet. I can't run in shoes.  Them white kids, they can, they used to it.  But us black kids, we can't run in shoes."
     He pleaded with me to let him stay home. I struggled to keep a straight face (and ignore his grammar).
     "We'll work something out," I said, giving his tear-stained cheek a big kiss while wondering if the guidelines for competing in Olympic track events might apply to the annual cross-country run in a small primary school on a remote, tropical island.  
     After all, Zola Budd ran 'using' bare feet.