"That's my fiancé!"I shriek to no one in particular, though several people turn to look at me.I don't care.I'm too busy watching Kirk get swarmed by his fellow competitors, receiving hearty back-slaps and congratulatory handshakes.
An hour later, Kirk volunteers for the tug o' war.His team consists of Domhnall Sterling, Logan MacTaggart, and a few other sizzling Scots.Mother Nature gave Scottish men all the best genes.I mean, those muscles...whew.I'm suddenly fanning myself.
"Ye've got yerself a champion there," the old woman says, her tone softening slightly."I've known the Balfour boys since they were wee lads causing mischief around Dùndubhan."
Even Kirk's Dad is taking part.I never would've guessed Roy Balfour could pull as aggressively as his son or maybe even harder than Kirk.
What's next?Oh, not much.Just my honey showing off his stamina during the Hill Race.I hop up on the balls of my feet, shielding my eyes from the sun as I spot Kirk jogging toward the starting line.The Hill Race is no joke.It's a grueling three-mile climb up Beann Dealgach followed by a treacherous descent that has claimed many a competitor's dignity, or so Kirk told me.I suspect he's fibbing about that.
"Has Kirk always pushed himself this hard?"I ask Kenina, who's become my unofficial Highland Games companion.
"Aye, the Balfour men are as stubborn as the mountain itself."She points toward the imposing peak."His grandfather once ran that race with a sprained ankle strictly to spite his cousin who said dared him to do it."
Yeah, I can believe that.Kirk's competitive streak is as wide as the Atlantic Ocean I crossed to be here.And just as unpredictable.
The runners gather at the starting line, stretching their hamstrings and adjusting the numbers pinned to their chests.I wring my hands when I see Kirk shake out his shoulders, his face set with that indomitable resolve I've come to recognize as his "no turning back now" look.
"On your marks!"The starter raises a pistol into the air."Get set!GO!"
The crack of the starter pistol sends the runners surging forward.Kirk takes off like a shot, his powerful legs eating up the ground.I'm bouncing on my toes, my heart racing nearly as fast as he is.
"He's starting too fast," Kenina sighs beside me, shaking her head."Kirk, ye bloody fool, save it for later.The hill will humble ye,mo luran."
"Is that experience talking or worry?"I ask, my eyes glued to Kirk as he powers up the initial slope.
"Both, lass.I've watched three generations of Balfour men learn this lesson the hard way."
"Um, what doesmo luranmean?"
She smiles."My darling boy."
The runners become smaller as they ascend, mutating into colorful dots against the green hillside.I strain my eyes, desperate to keep track of Kirk's blue shirt among the throng.
"So, who won last year?"I ask, still squinting at the hill.
"Logan MacTaggart," Kenina says with a sniff."Three years running.Logan's a good lad, but not as good a runner as my Kirk."
I spot Logan's red shirt pulling ahead of the pack.Kirk isn't far behind, but the steep incline is taking its toll.
"Come on, Kirk," I mutter."Pace yourself, sweetie."
"He never does," Kenina chuckles."That's why ye love him, aye?"
She's right.Kirk's all-or-nothing approach to life is exactly what drew me to him.The man doesn't have a half-speed setting.
The runners vanish over the crest of Beann Dealgach, and I'm left standing on my tiptoes as if I can somehow peer through the mountain itself.
"Now we wait," Kenina explains, relaxing a bit."The descent is where the real race happens."
"The descent?Isn't thatmoredangerous?"
"Oh, aye.That's precisely why it separates the men from the wee ladies.Kirk has the heart, but Logan has the experience.The mountain doesnae care about either."
I can't stop myself from picturing Kirk hurtling down a steep slope, one misstep away from catastrophe.My imagination conjures images of twisted ankles and tumbling bodies that make my stomach lurch.
"Dinnae fash yourself," Kenina pats my arm."They're Highlanders.Falling down mountains is nothing to these braw laddies."
"That is not an inspiring statement."
