May The Best Man Win

Hello! How are you?

It’s been a good week. Exams are winding down – practically finished actually so, my temp work has too. I’m grateful for the time though and my new friends.

Exams finished just in time for me to attend Bubs’ Sport’s Day. It’s usually just me and my mum, but this year Older Miss and Mr E were able to join us so, he had a full cheering squad. OM has finished exams so, is living the life of riley (to a certain extent) at the mo. Mr E is off work while he has his radiotherapy treatment (which I’ll get into another time) and so far, he hasn’t had any major side effects other than feeling tired so, we’re thankful.

Back to Sport’s Day…

With the children lined up and ready at their different events, we opened up the camping chairs on the sidelines. The dad of Bubs’ bestie turned up a few minutes later and proceeded to perform a series of stretches. I nodded to OM: ‘He’s warming up for the parent’s race.’ A race that I have never taken part in – and never will.

Who in their right mind would subject themselves to that? If there was a parent’s Egg and Spoon race, I’d be all over it. But running? I mean, it’s not the Olympics and there are no prizes other than apparent pride at one unfit person beating another unfit person. I’m quite happy to sit on the sidelines, thanks.

Anyway. Before all of that, Bubs took part in an obstacle course, bean bag toss, bean bag throw amongst other events; the highlight being the running race where he tore ahead with such a lead that parents beside me said with wide eyes, ‘He’s fast!’

But guess whose voices were the loudest throughout all the events? Mine and OM!

I’m not even embarrassed. We cheered and whooped and hollered! And not just for Bubs – we cheered for everyone while other parents stood silently by, which really annoyed me.

Not every child is fortunate enough to have a familiar face of support in the crowd. So, while my cheers might be a little louder for Bubs, my cheers are loud for all.

So when the child who was struggling on the obstacle course started to get upset, he heard me and OM shouting “You can do it!” and “Keep going!”

When the last team in the relay was lagging behind, we cheered them on while other parents turned away and talked amongst themselves because it wasn’t their children. We got a few looks – some seemingly embarrassed for us, but we didn’t care.

Eventually, the day drew to a close with the infamous parent’s race. I knew it was time because the men were suddenly very animated, talking to each other and pushing their chests out (seriously).

Mr E had been umming and aahing about the race since the break for lunch.

‘What if you come last?’ OM teased.

‘I am not coming last!’

‘Or second-to-last?’

‘I’m not coming second-to-last or third-to-last, thank you very much!’

OM raised her hands in defeat and smiled, raising her eyebrows at me. I could see this was a ‘damned if I do and damned if I don’t’ type of situation so, I didn’t say a word.

The men walked to the start line with a swagger, like this was the race to end all races. They waited for the women to race first, which didn’t take long as only six women ran. The men’s race was divided into two because of the amount of them wanting to run…

‘I think I’m going to do it’, said Mr E.

‘Really?’ I was quite surprised. He was still at the finish line end of the track when all the other men were at the start.

‘What, you think I can’t do it? I run all the time!’

To be fair, Mr E does run a lot but he runs long distance – he’s not a sprinter. And he hasn’t done a run in a good while. I was concerned he hadn’t thought this through.

‘I’ll be fine. As long as I don’t come last, it’s fine’ he said as OM tried to get him to do some stretches and Bubs jumped up and down and pumped the air at the thought of his dad running.

The first batch of men ran. About six or seven of them. Bubs’ besties’ dad ran in the first race, coming a respectable forth place.

Mr E joined the second group which looked like about fifteen men. Three broke away at the front, Mr E maintained pace within the second group for a good chunk of the race, whilst three or four brought up the rear. They crossed the finish line and walked back like proud peacocks showing off for the crowd.

It was quite the anti-climax. As soon as the race was done, the PE lead raised her megaphone, thanked parents for coming and asked us to leave.

As the crowd jostled towards the gate, I kept my eyes on Mr E who was limping back to us. It seemed he’d pulled a muscle and he winced in pain. He leaned on the gate and I noticed the PE teacher stopped to look at him. She clearly wasn’t too concerned as she quickly continued on her way.

OM put her hand on Mr E’s shoulder. ‘What are you going to do next time?’

‘Stretch,’ he said with a groan. ‘Did you film it?’

OM and I looked at each other. We did not film it. In all honesty, it never even crossed my mind.

‘I can’t believe you didn’t film it!’ He said as he eased up off the gate. ‘Where did I come?’

OM and I glanced at each other again. ‘Maybe fifth or sixth?’

We were being kind. He definitely wasn’t last. Or second/third-to-last.

He may have been forth to last though..?

For the next couple of days, Mr E couldn’t sit, stand or walk without wincing but, after a few days of rest, thankfully, is no longer in pain. He still can’t bend properly to tie his shoes…

I know he’s feeling better as he keeps bugging me to ask the other mums at school if they filmed the race. I have no idea why he wants so desperately to have video evidence of not winning.

Each to their own, I guess.

Speak soon xx