Australia Day Races

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In what can only be described as a rarity, I was the first to leave the End of Summer Party last night, hosted by my gorgeous friends Tori and Fiona. I needed a clear head, and focus.

For I was to compete in the annual foot races, held on the beach every Australia Day.

That, and I had run out of wine.

So as the sparrow farted, we assembled on the beach. Here at Jabba, we are running at full capacity as my sister Mrs Ryan, her husband Pookie and their 3 bairns are in residence. Mrs Sparks and her family are across the road, while Tori and Fiona have many ring ins under their roof. So we had a fairly decent sized team.

The kids went through their age races and then, it was Mrs Ryan and my turn to run. In the 3 legged race.

We lined up and strategised. We were to start with the inside leg and trot along at a slow and steady pace. We were not particularly concerned with getting a ribbon, but ore concerned about not face planting into the sand.

ON YOUR MARK.

GET SET.

GO!

And like the models of athleticism that we are, we began.

Slow and steady. Co-ordinated and dare I say, perhaps a little graceful? We bought up the back of the pack and kept our eyes focused firmly on the finishing line. Then something happened.

One by one, our competition started to fall. There were bodies everywhere. As we dodged them, something occurred to us. We could actually win this race? It was our own Steven Bradbury moment. We did what any glory seeking women would do. We picked up the pace, This was our first mistake, and ultimately our undoing.

We came home empty handed, adrenaline still pumping through our veins. As I carefully displayed all of the ribbons we collected on Race Day, there was one space left for my invisible ribbon of glory.

The one that got away.

Happy Australia Day, wherever you are. I hope it is filled with laughter, laziness and lamingtons.