I didn’t really embarrass myself too badly except the one year that I went to the Colgate Games (someone was ill, and I got the call-up), I finished second to last place in the West Coast North Island team behind some shot putter called Bruce, who only picked the damn ball up a week prior.
It was when I was 12 and face-planted at the regional secondary schools athletics champs in the 100m hurdles that I thought it best to retire from my athletic career. The hurdles were spaced incorrectly, and we had to run the race again.
You would have thought the second race was the high jump. I didn’t fancy eating dust a second time. I hung up my sister’s hand-me-down spikes for good and picked up a tennis racquet instead.
The Masters Games are the next major athletic event that will hit town. Anytime I consider doing anything at a competitive level sports-wise now, I have to remember that I can pull a muscle getting out of bed. If they had an event called running-off-at-the-mouth, I’d be keen, or another thing that I’m really good at is moving my legs in bed to find the cool spot. I’m not sure how they’d judge that competition, but I rock at it, and you can do it lying down.
I am full of admiration for the people who get stuck in and give it a go, especially the competitors in the wine-tasting competition – you’ve got legs.
If there was a medal for the best competitor in the Village Party Tent, I could possibly be a contender, but you’d have to leave your house to enter that and I’m in bed by 9pm.
Injuries are prevalent at these games because people think “the older I get the better I was”. I don’t subscribe to that – I knew that I sucked right from the get-go. As with the Colgate Games, my Masters Games career was over before it began.
Now, Whanganui Vintage Weekend. This could be my chance to shine. I don’t have to do anything except breathe, because by being 51, I am quite simply, vintage. I feel a medal coming on.
