“Mommy. Other people won the race,” Ayay said to me when I crossed the finish line.
This weekend I ran an organized run. It was my first organized event since I did the Carp Triathlon a year and a half ago. It was the first organized run I’ve done since the Shamrock Run of ’07 in Portland. I was overdue. I needed some motivation to get up and run, and I needed something to push me a little harder, run a little faster.
I am not a fast runner. I am not a slow runner, either, but I rarely have the desire to run really, really, painfully fast. However, when I’m in a pack of people, all running the same course, my slight competitive edge comes out. I actually feel the desire to surge ahead, pass the girl with the cute pink top, catch up to the tall lanky man, and finish before more than half of the runners.
On this day, I was motivated by several people. There were the hard-core racers with incredible leg muscles, steady focus, and unbeatable strides. Sssshhhooooooooomm. They breezed past me – a blur in their periphereal vision. Then there was the 11-year-old boy who finished 14th overall. What?!?! And finally the 73-year-old man in grey. My goal was to catch him and pass him, which I eventually did, but not without some major huffing and puffing through the last 20 seconds as I sprinted to the finish line.
Richard Shobe – whoever you are, wherever you are, you are my inspiration. I can barely run like you at 31. I can only hope to be running like you when I’m 73.