Some people were walking their way in. I said to a dejected boy who looked to be about twelve, "you’re almost there, keep running." I was caught up in the encouragement I had received, and wanted to pass it on. He ignored me. The run was fairly flat and I chugged along, not huffing, knees strong. The volunteers were packing up the water and Gatorade as I passed the first station. Fortunately, they still had some handy and I grabbed a bottle of water as I ran by. I made it to the turn around point, where the volunteers, who had learned of this straggler via radio, were still waiting for me. I had read in one of my triathlon books to look around and smile, and always thank the volunteers. So I thanked them enthusiastically and started on my way back. I felt so good. This was the best run of my life. As I came in towards the finish line a cheer went up. So much for sneaking in quietly, I thought.
"Great job! Way to go! You’re keeping it strong!" people yelled as I passed. My husband and son were waiting for me. My son came up behind me and we crossed the finish line together. He hugged me and said, "Mom, I’m so proud of you." People were still clapping and cheering. The race director made an announcement that I was a beginner (if it wasn’t obvious) and my birthday had been yesterday. NOW I was embarrassed. I couldn’t believe the cheers. I said to my husband, "I’ll come in last again next time if I get this kind of applause." It took a minute to sink in. Yes, there would be a next time. We packed up and left without attending the awards ceremony.
I felt exhilarated the rest of the day. It didn’t turn out the way I’d pictured it but I still did it. The next day depression sunk in. Even if the bike hadn’t broken down I probably would still have been last. Next race, same thing, I thought. That sad little girl who was always last had come back. It wouldn’t have been so bad if there had not been three of my fellow cops who knew me, racing too. How long before the story of my abysmal finish got out in Copland? One of the cops, an Amazon of an athlete who worked as a state trooper, called and left me a message. I got around to listening to it the next day, thinking she was going to try to make me feel better. I didn't especially want to feel better. However, the message from her was that I had received a special trophy for my efforts, and she had picked it up for me after we left!
When I held the trophy in my hands, I couldn’t help being pleased. It said 4th place. I figured they must not have one that said "slowest ever." I looked up my results later and sure enough, I was fourth out of four in my age class. The trophy was of a woman running. Me, running.
