Last Place Runner

Today is the first Wednesday since Oct. 1 that I won’t be going to a group run with my coach.

I ran/walked my 5K on Saturday. It was so great to see everyone I met along the way during training. But even greater was coming into the finish line and hearing someone from my group shout, “Here comes Meghan!” and everyone went nutty with cheering. I crossed the line and, as I was waiting to have my timing chip cut off, I saw the little boy from the first weeks of training coming to high-five me. It was so absolutely amazing.

I talked to his mom on down at the end of the corral. She is having a baby in a few weeks, but she’d started having some contractions about a month ago and Coach benched her from training sessions. It was still so great to see them a the race. I mean, just … amazeballs.

I was a long time in getting to the finish line, so there were plenty from the group there to congratulate and talk about the race with as we waited for everyone else to finish. We all went wild any time someone from the group came toward the finish line. Everyone hugged and high-fived and hollered.

But during the race, I had a moment when I was alone. Lots of moments, actually, as I am pretty much a middle-pack runner. So I started walking. I could see people way up ahead of me, but I couldn’t see anyone behind me. I try not to look behind too much because I can’t really worry about the distance I’ve already put in. But I started walking and having crazy thoughts that I shouldn’t have done this race, I’m not ready, I’m still not a runner … And let me tell you how much that DOES NOT help.

Then I started telling myself that I was my only competition. I wasn’t going to win. I didn’t even want to. I wanted to race because it was fun, challenging, and because I couldn’t have done it a few months ago.

I was still walking when I heard a distinctive loud holler.

My coach LOVES running. And he assumes that you love it, too. Ice, dark, sweltering heat? Go for a run! And that’s part of what makes him such an inspiration and a wonderful motivator. He’s also quite a character. He was running that day in a full Santa Claus suit with a stuffed belly and the white hair and everything. He loves nothing more than passing people right at the finish line and even taught us to take huge comical strides if we needed to get our timing chips across the mat ahead of another runner. But he’s good-natured and a good sport. Or maybe I’m just saying that because I know I will never be able to cross a finish line when he does.

So I was walking along and I heard a whoop. And I said, “Well shit.” I knew it was my coach and if he saw me walking, I’d never live it down. He was making the loop to finish up his race, but that didn’t stop him from shouting to me that I was doing great and to keep going!

After the race, my husband said he was watching my coach at the finish line. He ran up behind some other runners shouting, “I’m gonna get you! I’m gonna get you!”

When my coach and his wife finished (I think she finished before he did, yay girls!) they went back out to find us. Which meant I couldn’t be seen out there on the course just strolling along. They both ran by and told me what a great job I was doing (which didn’t feel like all that great a job to me, honestly, but I loved hearing it from them) and told me I was almost done.

My husband got a photo of Coach keeping runners motivated.

And eventually, I was done. It took a little longer than my turkey trot. I think my official time was 46:32. But when I checked my GPS watch at home afterward, the turkey trot was 2.9 miles and the Frosty was 3.19. Best of all, though, was torching 698 calories in that amount of time. I can really get behind that.

Then it was all over. I hugged as many people from my group as I could find after the race. We’ll see each other at other races, but we may not ever train together again.

I really had a hard time with that. I really felt sad. Truly sad. It seemed like I’d worked so hard with these people to get to that race and then it was over just like that. Yes, I did 99% of my training on my own, but without my coach and the other runners I met, I would have given up.

But they’re also the reason I feel like I can’t give up now. I didn’t get into the half-marathon training with a lot of the other people I met, so I’ll be running solo now. If I want to see my running-group friends at other races, I’ll have to keep running so I can do those races.