Herbage in one month?
This isn't my idea... I wish it was.
About a month ago, at the Polar Pond hockey spectacular in Hay River, a friend proposed probably the most suitable and appropriate competition for our circle of super competitive, yet waning and aging athletes: a sort of customized decathalon in the open mens' division at the NWT Track and Field Championships in June.
Now, there are probably a good half dozen of us who have expressed interest in running sprints, long distances, and soaring through high, long and triple jumps. We are all lifetime Northerners who used to run track back in junior high school at the competition, and I think this might just be the full-circle event for us.
I know I would personally take pride in being one of those wierd adults that always seemed out of place, running in long distance events at the championships where hundreds of school kids congregate. I remember there was always one old guy with white hair who would put himself through an Olympian's stretching and warm-up routine before running the 3,000m by himself. Or there would be the try-hard teacher that would make the trip down with the students and try to relive the glory days in the 100m. Inevitably, one of the hot shot students would move up a division to challenge him and completely humiliate him.
So it goes.
But with our competition, there are no glory days to relive -- at least for me. We are now older and far more sinful and have seriously spoken about having to put money down on ourselves and instituting handicaps so some of us who are, shall we say, past the peak physically, will not be at a disadvantage. Keegs said he was going to light up a dart before the long distance run, you know, to show all the kids you can be rebelious and an athlete at the same time.
I have to give it up to B-Froese for coming up with the idea, as us mid-to-late-twentysomethings pack on the love handles and man boobs and beer guts, the hair starts to thin out and physical exercise becomes more of a chore than recreation. This could become an annual thing... a sort of yearly, spring humiliaton purging or something.
