Running the good race

Today was a first for me. I never before ran in an official race. I have always enjoyed running, but I never actually ran in an official race. Today I changed that forever.

I even crossed the finish line alone. Keep in mind there were many people ahead of me as well as many people behind me. With my asthmatic tendencies, I think I did pretty good.

Yes, I have asthmatic tendencies. I think they are related to some allergy that I must have. My respiratory passages fill up with mucous membranes, the natural reaction of the body to capture and expel foreign particles. But for me it means that the effective area of respiratory passages for air to enter my lungs is significantly reduced, and that means when I undergo activities which require extra oxygen – like running – I tire sooner than the average person. So my finish with an average time is really extraordinary.

I had set the goal to run the entire race. If I could just go the distance, that would be enough for me.

As much as I wanted that, I wanted my own safety more. So I wore a heart rate monitor. The instant I found my heart rate too high, I could slow down.

That turned out to be a life saver – probably literally. Part way through the race, I found my heart rate higher than I have ever seen it. I can recall over the years some workouts that were really working me out, but I have never seen my heart rate as high as 162. I had to slow down. Without that heart rate monitor, I would have pushed myself even farther and probably would have suffered for it. I may not have been in the best physical shape for that race, but my mind was sharp and determined. I truly intended to finish well.

What surprised me is that my first race experience was about more than the race.

I was in line to use the restroom just before the gathering at the start line. The line for the men’s room was much longer than that for the women’s room. Not surprising, since there were lots more of us men at the race. But the line for the men’s room was incredibly slow.

As surprising as that was, that was not what really surprised me. I was almost to the door to the men’s room, when out comes this old guy with a cane. I thought, Hey, dude, if you need a CANE to help you WALK, what the freak are you doing at a RACE? I just had to smile.

But that was not my last view of Cane Man. I saw him shortly after the race had started. I was purposefully in the back of the pack; I wasn’t there to compete, so I determined to stay out of the way of those who were competing. In addition, I understood that soon after the race begins a natural filtering process would unfold. Those who sprinted off like madmen would soon lose steam and start walking. I passed many such characters early on. That felt good. But I also passed Cane Man.

For some reason, I have to put him in a different category. Here is this man who needed a cane to walk, and he was RUNNING. Granted he was anything but fast — his gate resembled more some ancient native dance technique than modern athletic precision — but he was running all the same. I thought about that old fable about the tortoise and the hare. That made an impression on me.

And I’m glad that it did. When it became clear that I would have to choose between chasing after my goal or my own health and safety, I slowed down and thought about what I had witnessed. I felt discomfitted; here was the moment that I had looked forward to now for at least two months, and I found that I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go the distance. But Cane Man taught me that it didn’t matter, not fundamentally. He soldiered on despite his obvious impediments. I could do the same despite mine.

I may have stopped running on occasion, but I never stopped moving. And I crossed that finish line running — alone, but running. There were some greeters there to congratulate those who finished. They were probably part of the organizing crew. They were welcome, for they already knew what I had learned along the way. Everyone who finishes the race is a winner. And I actually did go the distance, just not in the way I had envisioned.

That is what it means to run the good race. We keep doing what lies within our power, keep reaching for that mojo, keep acting on the belief that eventually we will cross that finish line and enter into our rest. That’s what I did today.

And next time I’ll do better than I did today.