“Excellent to see you all,” I said, shaking the hands of the four Gareloch boys.
“We wouldn’t miss this for the world.”, said Moses.
In the back of my mind, I was grinning to myself. We practice three times a week, and athletics is our foundation. I explain the race format and give them a heat number each, explaining two people qualify for the final.
Their confidence explodes, “See you in the final.”
Archibald Rae shouts forward the first heat’s competitors. I am in heat four and spectate the first three, cheering on my teammates galloping around the four hundred and forty yards circuit.
I stand on the start line beside my great friend, Joseph Taylor, “Joseph, we both must qualify for the final.”
The gun goes off, and Joseph tears off. I manage to catch up and sit on Joseph’s shoulder. With one hundred yards to go, I shout in his ear, “Time to get going.”
This time I have support shouting and cheering us home. We cross the line, first and second, and Moses trots in a disappointing third.
Moses picks me off the ground. “Congratulations.”
“A fine victory, indeed.”
The final is a close affair; however, Maclachlan, Taylor and Ker take the coveted prizes. My victory was personal and beautiful, and now we move onto the showpiece.