Tears before bedtime

Big boys don't cry - do we? We grit our teeth and stand up straight, we may wince and whine but tears? - never!


Having three young children, I am used to the world of sobs. The reasons for them can vary from the skinned knee to the stolen teddy and their intensity can range from quiet tears to screaming like a banshee!


I'm sure that when I was small, I shed my fair share of tears for very similar reasons but as you get older, the reasons become fewer and your tear ducts start to dry up. We all still have our moments, sadly as a result of some form of bereavement, when our emotions come to the fore and we are able to cry and display the inner pain we feel.


We have all witnessed the nauseating spectacle of X Factor winners sobbing their way through winning songs or the despair of a loosing side in a crucial match but these are "other" people, not us, not me. Their emotions are fragile and easily exposed mine are hidden away, deep down........usually!


What is therefore about an event like the West Highland Way Race that changes all that? Last year (my first year) I had been struggling from about Kinlochleven and had been walking / running as best I could over those last miles. As I went through the Braveheart and onto the pavement into Fort William I started to run again. I was joined by both my brothers who were acting as support runners, my eldest son and my father and we all ran in towards the finish. By the time I reached the end of the Way sign at the roundabout, the tears were running down my face and as I pushed open the doors of the leisure centre I only managed to mumble my number to the marshall, scared to try and talk as I knew I wouldn't be able to get any words out.


My stiff upper lip had quivered uncontrollably and if you read through the many race tales on the WHW Race website, I am not alone. It is a common recurring theme that the end of such an event is an emotional experience and the barriers that we normaly put up have been broken down by the excertions of the previous hours.


It is not only runners who experience this as this extract from a posting of my brothers on his triathlon clubs website shows:





"We come to the forest car park where we join the road into Fort William, phone calls have been made and the full support crew are waiting. My Dad and nephew join us and we keep moving forward, in heavy rain now, knowing we are into the last mile or so. As we approach the finish Graeme summons from somewhere a last burst of energy and we run into the Leisure Centre and at last Graeme can stop. He sits down, he cries. Someone shouts 24:46 and I realise that’s the finish time, I go over to tell my brother and congratulate him but for some reason I can’t speak so I just shake him by the hand."





I don't know if this year will be any different, perhaps having done it once, the emotions will not be so strong. I think somehow though I'll still find myself blubbing like a baby as the leisure centre comes into view.

Tears before bedtime!