Running Shorts

Run each race like it’s your last. Those were the words of Dawn Cromer, a women’s steeplechase runner who is heading to the Olympic Trials in June. She’ll be retiring from professional track after this season and thought she had been missing out on part of the experience. She now runs each race like it’s her last and is enjoying her sport more and more.
I will never be a runner on or near the level of Dawn. I didn’t even start running until I was 41 and I’m not what you would consider quick. But I’m still out there. I head to local races, pin on a number and take to the streets with a personal goal in mind. Sometimes, I stress myself out too much and don’t really appreciate what I’m doing.
Fortunately, I met Dawn a couple of days before the Monument Avenue 10K in Richmond. If there is a race that can humble a runner, it’s this one. Elite runners from all over take part. This year, it also was the U.S. National Championship 10K. The elite runners took off at 8:30 while the rest of us (24,000 people) were lined up behind. Heck, they were done well before my group even started. But I didn’t care. I was there for another reason - to do something I had never done before.
The Usual Suspects of running friends made the trip down. This time, it was five runners, two walkers and two cheerleaders. As I took my place in line, I met a woman named Tabitha. We started chatting, and I discovered that she grew up in Fluvanna. Our goal time for the race was similar, so we stuck together for a while. In the mass of humanity that was the corral, I heard someone call my name. It was Mark, a pal from 10-Miler training. Introductions were made and we nervously chatted to kill some time.
I mentioned to both of them that I get too stressed out and I need to remember to run each race like it’s my last. That’s when Mark said we should “Run for Greg.” Greg was a friend of Mark’s who started running just this year, got addicted and started 10-Miler training. One Saturday, he did a 7-mile run, just like the rest of us, ran errands, just like the rest of us, went home and took a nap, just like the rest of us. But Greg died in a fire that day.
I don’t recall ever meeting Greg, but I know he was part of my running group. On the last day of his life, we did the same thing.
When Mark finished telling Tabitha about that, she told us her boyfriend was a burn survivor and she would be proud to Run for Greg. Of course, we were all on the brink of tears at that point (there’s a reason they call me Easy Deb), and we all fought back emotions and changed the subject.
The race was beautiful. The temperature was brisk and a steady mist fell the whole time. Mark dusted us early on. Crowds lined the streets cheering. Tabitha grabbed some beads from a volunteer and handed me some. The pace was quick and we were all smiling. At mile 2, Tabitha slowed up and I was running by myself. Alone with my thoughts in a crowd of people.
At the halfway mark, I made the turn to start heading toward the finish. I could see thousands of people in front of me and thousands more heading to the turn. And then Greg popped into my head. And Dana. And Tabitha’s boyfriend. Run each race like it’s your last. Somewhere, I found a little extra energy. When I crossed the finish line, I looked at my watch and thought I had run a good race. I later found out it was my fastest ever.
Setting a personal best was great, but what was more important was that I enjoyed the experience. I didn’t stress out or worry or obsess. I had fun. When I rejoined my friends, we were smiling and laughing and trading snacks like fifth-graders. And somehow, among the thousands of people, I ran into both Mark and Tabitha again. We all hit our goals, and we all enjoyed every moment. We all ran like it was our last race.
Thanks, Dawn.