Recently, my younger son and I ran a 5K.  I haven’t participated in a race since last November and forgot how much I cherish it. It’s also a great mother/son opportunity to do something together.  (And it gets him off the Xbox. Win-win!)

I started to feel the racing and running fire once again, which had a big bucket of water thrown on it when the summer heat kicked in.  Poor analogy, perhaps, since it was the heat that cooled off my intensity.

Races are like salads to me: if I’m not intentional, it won’t happen.  I never regret eating a salad, but something else always looks more appealing on the menu.  

Likewise, I always want to spend my weekend morning doing something else (like sleeping in).  Plus, registering usually means I’m committing myself to training and preparing for it — even less snoozing.

But once again, I was reminded how much I do love the race environment. I have yet to regret a race.  While on the sidewalks this morning, I tried to pinpoint exactly why I feel that way.  

The top three things I love about racing: 

The accomplishment.  

Although I’ve been running about 10 years, I still don’t feel _____ enough to call myself a runner.  Depending on the day, that blank can be filled with any combination of the following words:  fast, conditioned, lean, seasoned and springy.  But getting across the finish line validates my efforts.  

The community.  

When you think of a race, do you envision sports bras, itty-bitty racing shorts and funny looking compression socks worn by people with a body fat percentage in the single digits?  I do.  

The reality is that description only applies to a small number of runners.

There is no cookie-cutter version of a runner, and you certainly can’t stereotype performance based on size.  Show up at any start line and I will show you every skin color and size under the rainbow.  

The finish line shows the same thing on everybody:  smiles.

The training.  

Ok, I don’t always love training.  But I do value a goal and knowing my good, bad, or ugly runs have an end game.  A date with a red circle around it encourages me to push a little more or just get out the door when I’m not feeling it.

What are you waiting for?

 If you’ve never participated in any kind of race, I urge you to try one.  If you’re still not confident in yourself, then

a) get over it — you’re better than you give yourself credit for, or

b) volunteer.  Everything from packet stuffing to handing out medals at the finish line requires manpower.  Exposing yourself to this might change your perspective.

Who knows, you might find a new love. And I bet you won’t miss the extra Z’s.  If you do, there’s always Starbucks on the way home.

This post inspired me to pull out some old race pics.  I don’t have a ton but did find a few.  A few observations: 1) I appear to have been deprived of all things dirt and muddy growing up.  What is it about a race that promises to leave you with dirt in the crevices of your ears for a week that draws me to it? 2) After a race, I tend to get that milk-drunk look I used to see after nursing my babies.  I suppose it’s a combination of endorphins and exhaustion.

Muddy Buddy 2010 with my beautiful sister:

If my friend, Lis, looks happy and refreshed, that’s because she completed the race a full 20 minutes before I slogged across the finish line.  She had time to shower and change before running me in the last quarter mile.  #greatfriend

 Charlie Sheen was coming off the rails in 2011 and I was hurdling fire and swimming through mud with friends.  

 The last leg of the Sugar Land Tri in 2012.  Somehow this was my best race ever.  Oh yeah, maybe that’s because I trained my tail off and ate clean.  Funny how that works.

Now I am really ready to race again!  Love these memories!