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Running a Straight Race
Never having been athletically inclined, I tried to avoid track events wherever it was possible and go in for the long distance cross-country stuff where it was easier to have a little sit down and watch the world, and the other runners, go by. The spectators were grateful to me for this because they knew that, when I came in, there would be no one else who was alive coming up behind me, and they could go home.
However! By some oversight I once found myself entered for the four by two hundred and twenty yards relay. I was second in the team and, eying up the running track, I came to the conclusion that it didn't seem too far round it and I would just about be able manage. To my horror, my fleet footed colleague, leading the field, ran straight past me with the baton after one circuit and I realised that it was, in fact, a four by four hundred and forty yards relay, a quarter of a mile, and quite beyond my capabilities.
It was like one of those nightmares where the monster is catching up and your legs will not go any faster. Try as I might, my legs were like lead, I thought that my heart would explode, and my lungs would not take in any more oxygen. The rest of the field overtook me one by one. Luckily the other two lads caught up again and we all received a plastic ball-point pen as a prize. The Ministry of Defence were never generous with their rewards. As I lay panting by the track, very red in the face and feeling like death, my fellow team members were scathing in their appraisal of my lack of athletic prowess and used very rude words about it.
I feel the same way about February. Christmass and Epiphany have been a long haul. By the time that we pack the crib away at Candlemas we seem to have been going on for ever. To paraphrase those unforgettable words from 1967; "they think that it's all over - but it isn't yet". Just when we think that we have completed the circuit, Lent appears and we have to keep running for another long lap. In this instance it is a race that we are going to enjoy running, and the reward is more valuable than any cheap ball-point pen.
May God bless you all, Fr. Allan
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