British Masters relays


Three of us set off on Saturday morning (combined age of 201) to compete in what some disrespectfully called a pensioners’ outing, but which was in fact the British Masters’ Athletic Federation (BMAF) relays, in our case for over 65s. After a(n admittedly elderly gents’) comfort stop en route, we arrived at the stadium in Derby in good time (for another visit to the loo). Our race was due to start at 12.15, excellent time for the over 65s – not so early that we were still creaky from a night in bed, and not too late to be past our prime (some might claim that was the case nevertheless). Tom bought a programme (a good chunk out of a meagre pension) and we discovered there were 8 other teams in our category! How dare 27 pensioners all claim to be fit enough to run! We debated our running order, but quickly accepted it would in practice make little difference. At 12.15 I lined up at the start, with all the ladies’ categories, and a quick count showed that only 5 over 65 males had shown up. (Ha! As I thought, ¬†presumptious veterans wasting good money on pre-entering) The gun went off, and thirty-odd runners took the first bank (all of 4m high) and wound around the grassy edge of the track, into the woods, back round the track and through the start area for a second 1500m lap. As I finished, a Bedford runner overtook me, but Tom soon regained 3rd place and pulled away to leave Gary comfortably in 3rd place for his leg. We were beaten by Oxford City (with two internationals) and Rotherham, but finished well ahead of Bedford (you’d expect them to be in the van!). Our medals are in the post.

2 thoughts on “British Masters relays

  1. Congratulations to Croft’s 3 Silver Surfers on their performance at Derby. A medal on the national stage is to be applauded and acclaimed. Was the relay baton in the shape of a Werther’s Original or, perhaps more appropriately, a bus pass ?

    1. You may mock! But no, there was no baton. As the first runner raced across the finishing line, he cast a steely, triumphant glance across to the pen where his team-mate, snorting steam through his nostrils and champing, was about to be released into the fray.

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