Victory.

"Don't leave me.  PLEASE.  It's my first race and I'm scared.  I don't even know why I'm doing this.  WHY am I doing this?!  I can walk if I want to, right?"

"Nope.  You've worked too hard to walk."

"UGH!  How long is this race again?!  I can't believe my Mom is here..."

"It's a 5k.  That's 3.1 miles.  You ran 5 miles in practice on Tuesday.  That's much longer."

"WHY do we have to stand HERE at the start line?!  I don't want to do this anymore."

"You're here and you're doing this because you want to and you've worked hard to get here.  We're standing here because you're stronger than you think you are.  Here's the deal.  Just follow me.  Ok?" 

"Ok." 

Deep breaths.

"Racers ready!........."

*Start siren blares* 

Off we go. 

...

The morning had already been continuing on for me since 5:00am, but here we were, 9:00am on a Saturday morning, in heavy, hot, humid, sticky air, in uniform, suddenly tearing up a loose dirt and crushed shell path at the start of a 5k race, limbs flying, already sweating, and for some of us, nerves totally on edge. 

When I accepted a volunteer coaching position several months ago, I was excited at the prospect of volunteering my time and running expertise to give back in some way.  I had been selfishly running for 16 years, and wanted to somehow do something with my running for the greater good of others.  Unfortunately, raising money for charity and asking for other people's money has never been my forte, so you could imagine my level of eagerness to accept this distance coaching position.  The girls I coach are between the ages of 10 and 13 and honestly, I never would have ever guessed that I love it as much as I do.  I can't even put it into words.  I would even go so far as to say that this is one of the most shocking things that I've learned about myself in decades - I'm actually good with kids?  Who knew. 

Saturday was our final meet of the spring session, so we're finished until the fall.  The girls had worked so hard, and for several of them, it was their first real race.  We had been working on the track and had done a few shorter distance meets, but this was the big-time:  a real 5k, and for many of them, their first "distance" race outside of the 1600-meter.  One little girl in particular I had been working with all season long managed to find me on race morning.  Normally she doesn't say much, and is one of the youngest and is always the last one to be picked up after practice, so when she asked me about 23 questions in the span of a minute and then begged me to pace her through the race, of course I said yes, and there we found ourselves.  It was her first 5k and first trail race, but what I've seen her do during practice, made me realize that we could easily try to aim for a 25-minute 5k.  I did not tell her this though. 

When that siren blared we glanced at each other, then tore into the first 1/4 mile.  Hard.  Even though *I* was not racing this race and I was merely just pacing this race, I couldn't help but see myself in this little girl, both tall and all limbs and bony elbows, and gritty mentality.  I don't know how it happened but I shut everything out, all of my worries, cares, concerns, joys, and just focused on pacing her.  I pulled her out of her own head and calmed her down.  We fell into a steady 7:00 min/mile pace.  I explained our strategy, the hills, the flats, how to navigate the water station and the course.  When she started lagging, I nudged her to keep up.  The course was two loops and at the halfway split, we were right at 14:00 minutes on the nose.  I had us going out a bit faster because I had been studying her pacing throughout practice and she still needs work.  I knew her final mile was going to be a tough one as more of a mental game, so I wanted to allow for a little extra time to hit that 25-minute goal.  At mile 2.1 she started having a meltdown, right on schedule.  I pushed her to keep going despite the hills.  I told her that she's bigger than this and to use those long legs as her secret weapon to put those hills away.  at mile 2.8 we could see the finish and she started telling me how she didn't care anymore and wanted to just throw the race and walk it.  It was an extremely quick race, but it was a long contra dance of weak and strong, protesting and directing, heaving and breathing, and encouragement, encouragement, encouragement.  We kept moving.  We tore into the finish line and finished the 5k at 25 minutes on the nose.  She placed second in her age group. 

More importantly, after she grabbed water and immediately hugged me, she grabbed my hand and insisted that we walk the course back to mile 2.8 and cheer on the rest of our team.  Again, I can't even put the amount of pride I felt for my team and their killer attitude into words.  Never mind the fact that she's 10 and just did her first 5k in 25 minutes flat; she wanted to cheer on the rest of her team who started coming in about 5 minutes later, and that's much more valuable as an athletic skill in my opinion. 

Maybe I'm not the best or fastest runner in my own time, but I've said it before and I'll say it again - I run with my heart.  The fact that my team has gone from a scrappy group of attitude to a team that smiles and laughs and cheers each other through their victories and struggles makes me feel nothing but utter happiness.  Maybe *I'm* not the best, but if I'm able to influence other runners to run with their hearts, to give back by supporting their teammates and other runners who they don't even know, and to be proud of who they are and of what they are capable, then my job is done.  I can't wait to pick this up again in the fall, once my own races are finished.  I feel so fortunate to be helping the running world by influencing a new generation of runners in my own little way; not just good runners, but runners who are run with their hearts.  When it comes down to it, we are really all just a running community and a running family, even if we don't know each other.  We need to celebrate our victories together as one, big team.  Running can turn into such a self-centered sport if we let it.  If I can help just a small handful of runners realize the importance of positive encouragement of other runners, despite their goal differences, then I feel like I'm giving back.  That's a personal victory, right there.