I used to run a lot of 5K races.  I never won any, but I enjoyed running as fast as I could for just over the three miles that those races cover.  I’d race against other runners, but in actuality, I would really be racing against myself.  

A few weeks ago, I ran my first true 5K race in six years. 

I didn’t run this race to compete, rather I did it to support a local cause and the people who run that charity.  These are good people working hard for a good cause.  I am always happy to support others in whatever ways I can.

Before the race started, I looked around at the “competition” – the other runners.  I noticed that most of them were a lot younger than me.  Even though I’m in marathon training, I also felt that many of the runners were in much better shape than me. 

As I waited for the start of the race, I thought of the runner who I used to be knowing that I would never be that runner again.  And I was fine with all of that. 

I figured in this race, I would be among the last of the finishers.  And I was okay with that too.

Life moves on.  We age.  We slow down.  In fact, while I used to try to get to the end quickly, as I have aged (and matured?) I realized that it isn’t always how quickly we get to the finish line that matters, just that we get there.  It’s about the effort, not necessarily the result.

In my training, for shorter distances, I have most often been running close to ten-minute-miles.  On my long runs, I’ve been slower.  A lot slower. Such… is life.

So, as I stood at the start of this 5K, I reasoned that I’d just run my race.  I’d let the younger adult runners compete among themselves.  I’d let the high school and college track runners run for their own glory.  I was content to run my race, alone.  I thought, “If I break 30-minutes in this race, that’ll be good.” 

Being quicker than twenty-seven minutes seemed out of the question.  I am just not that fast any longer.

The horn blew, the runners took off.  Me too, but at my own pace.  As the fastest runners sprinted away, I was content in running at my own race pace.  I was the slow guy.  It was all good. 

Of course, as the fastest runners went off into the distance, I did remember, fondly, the days when I considered myself almost one of them.  I never won a race, but I did collect a few age-group medals over the years.

I was running, but I wasn’t running (the way they were).  

As I reached the one mile mark, my Garmin watch gave its little ding.  I looked down at my time knowing that I was running faster than usual expecting to see 9:27 or so.  I felt I was doing pretty well. 

My watch read 8:08.  (This was a smaller local race, there were no timers at the mile marks.)

“Eight, oh, eight?!” I thought, incredulously.  “I’m not that fast any longer.”

But I was.

Immediately I then I wondered if I could maintain that pace for two more miles.  I resolved to try.  

I still wasn’t competing against anyone in particular.  I was running to see who I was on that day at that time in that race.  

I completed the second mile in under eight minutes.  

If, in these moments, I compared myself to the faster runners, some of whom had passed the turn-around and were now heading in the opposite direction as me, flying (literally flying) towards the finish, I would have felt slow, ponderous, and old… 

Too often in life we compare ourselves to others and find the areas where we fall short.  

Too often we don’t see or notice or appreciate the good attributes about ourselves, not just as runners or athletes or as students or professionals, but in every way.

On this day I wasn’t guilty of this.  Instead I simply wondered who I could be. 

I had a mile to go, I was running fast, faster than I had in many years and I wondered if I could keep it up.  I wondered how much more I had in me.  

I had more than enough.

My last mile came in at 7:42.  Unheard of.  I finished the race with an average pace of 7:55.

I’m 56-years-old and I ran a 5K in under eight-minute-miles.  I didn’t think I could do that any longer.  I didn’t think I had it in me.

But I did.

When I run races, I primarily focus on the marathon.  I don’t run the marathon to try to set a PR any longer.  I run for the challenge of eventually reaching the finish line.  (I’m still faster than five-hours, a streak I hope will continue this year in the NYC Marathon.)

In a few weeks, when I’m standing at the start on Marathon Sunday, I won’t be comparing myself to the other runners.  I’ll be comparing myself to me, who I am that day, at that time, in that moment.  All I can be is the best me I can be.  

And that is, and has to be, and it will be, good enough.

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I am running the NYC Marathon this year to support The Sesame Workshop. Please click this link to give to this worthy cause. THANK YOU.