Some events resist explanation, and hundreds of inflatable dinosaurs racing along Douglas Promenade is one of them. On 2 May, the Jurassic Sprint set off from Loch Promenade near the Bottleneck, and for one glorious afternoon the seafront belonged to a waddling herd of tyrannosaurs, visibility inside the costumes being optional and dignity having been abandoned at registration.
There was, of course, a properly good reason for it all. The run raised funds for the Children’s Centre and Rebecca House, the Island’s children’s hospice, two causes that deserve every penny, and if the price of supporting them is squeezing into an inflatable apex predator and running a promenade in front of a laughing crowd, the Island will pay it gladly. Previous editions have been billed as the world’s biggest T-Rex race, and on the evidence of the turnout, the title is safe here.
It was gloriously silly, entirely wholesome, and very Manx in its willingness to commit fully to a daft idea. I watched a dinosaur lose its footing in front of a cheering crowd and thought, not for the first time, that this Island has the measure of what weekends are for.
Charlton Krentz 