A Day at the Games

4th August 2012

I’m sentimental at the best of times and never more so than when walking behind a pipe band into a games field! And so, I had a teary eye as we arrived in the Newtonmore games field behind the Badenoch and Strathspey band (young Duncan Gorman on pipes). The smell of the burger bar, the clatter and screech of the shows, piping from every corner and best of all, the sun was shining.

Shelagh and I entered the hill race, (menopausal anonymity reinforced by fact that there being no category for 50+ women!) and then, in a misplaced fit of enthusiasm my three long term running pals and I entered the women’s 4 x half lap relay. I haven’t raced for a long time and there followed a happy hour and a half catching up with old faces, having the blethers, relaxing in the sun and watching the heavies do their stuff. People were complaining that it was going to be too hot to race which seemed odd after the summer we’ve had, but I wasn’t caring, at all; back in March an orthopaedic expert with the bed side manner of nightclub bouncer, had told me that my running days were done and yet here I was, confident i could run a race without my knee seizing solid. I was having such a good time that it was not until the gun went and we started our charge round the track that I felt my tummy tighten and my mouth go dry. Once across the river and heading up the track however, nerves settled. I focussed on trying to gauge the exact level of race unfitness and to what extent I could afford to try through-the-bracken overtakes, having started very conservatively. It’s no good settling for snaking up in a queue of folk if you can push that bit harder and I hopped past Val Brunton (who I knew fine well would catch me on the descent) and she and I continued to pass folk all the way to the summit.

The descent off the top was rocky and muddy and in my case not very graceful. As predicted, Val came charging passed just below the crags but took me with her to do some more overtaking of other ladies on the lower track. It would be nice to say that there was a final sprint through the meadow and round the track but it was more of a grim and gasping lunge to the finish. I crossed the line some seconds behind Val, accompanied by the forgotten but familiar mispronunciation of my surname by the announcer! I didn’t wear a watch, still don’t know how long it took or where I ended up but I had done a race at my favourite Highland Games and loved every minute of it! Other Westies sharing the day were Ros Evans, JD (supported by Paula in Westies yellow lace), trail marker Manny, Brenda, Brian Brennan and Duncan Gorman- I think that’s all of us.

We girls had tons of time to recover before the start of the women’s relay – so much time we could afford a quick visit to the Dalwhinnie tasting tent! We didn’t linger -honest – the race was at 5.10pm allegedly. We were poised or getting poised by 5pm -we had even agreed our running order when, woooosh – a girlie a third my age and twice my leg length scooted past in shiny lycra holding a stick thing, followed woosh, by a similar girlie and another. ‘We better move – that must be the junior relay’ says my pal Chris Patterson -w w woosh – w w wooosh – two older women pass us holding stick things.’ No’ says Shelagh – ‘that was THE women’s relay – we’ve missed the start. Oh well, there’s always Rio!’

There are few better feelings that walking home with tired, muddy legs, having had just too much sun, just enough whisky, pipe music ringing in your ears and in the company of old friends. Maybe I’m just sentimental!

Chrissy Menhennet