It was billed as the race of the century; I was to take on ten-year old Harry in a lap around a park in Richmond, Nelson, New Zealand.
I last took on Harry (my nephew) two years ago, he was eight years old and only three feet tall and he nearly beat me. Earlier this year Harry, now well over four feet in height came second in his school regional; he could not be taken lightly, I trained hard and turned up on race day with a cunning strategy…
Blitz him at the start, get as far ahead as possible, crush his spirit so he no longer believes that winning is possible. I am somewhat ashamed to tell you that the strategy worked; I almost died of exhaustion, gasping for air like Eric Lidell in Chariots of Fire. But I must say that Harry is a true champion, and I am proud to say he took his defeat like a real man.
The clock is ticking, and as every year rolls round, Harry is getting closer and closer to victory, because I refuse to let him win, it will be so much sweeter when it comes.