This morning I ran in Porstmouth, Virginia’s Coast Guard 5k. Apparently the U.S. Coast Guard’s birthday was on August 4^th. George Washington got the coast guard going back in 1790 but back then it was known as the Revenue Cutter Service. The ships back then were known as “cutters” (GoCoastGuard.com). That explains why the 10k race today prior to the 5k was called “The Cutter 10k.” It all makes sense now.

We got to run in Old Towne Portsmouth, a quaint area along the Elizabeth River. The first half mile or so took us on a boardwalk of sorts along the river. I was happy to look across the water and see a big sign that read “Norfolk.” Waterside, my home. I like Norfolk better; it’ll always have a special place in my heart. I didn’t see any ships out on the water.

I passed two other women during that first half mile. A string of runners was ahead of me – all men. I looked at my watch, about a 7:10/mile pace. Not fast enough to beat my PR (personal record), but plenty of time to close the gap. I was conscious to stay under that burning-in-my-lungs-and-abdomen feeling so I could keep a steady pace. There’s nothing worse in a race than getting passed in the last mile. This race was smaller, so I couldn’t rely on others to pull me along when I got tired. No life ring here. Something bad happened because of the smaller size (fewer runners) of this race: I was alone. A lot. It’s a miserable thing in a race. I watched as my pace dropped into the 7:30/mi range. Blaaahhh. Like floating alone in the ocean. But I got a spark of hope. I saw one male runner ahead of me start walking. He took a breather then got going again. I stayed on his shoulder, figuring he could be my buddy. His pace was tough but doable. This is a big help in a race, almost like a life ring. I stayed just behind and to his left for miles 2-3 as we ran through Old Towne. We passed my friend LeAnn’s old house and I recognized the porch instantly. Residents hung out on the sidewalks to cheer us on. I think it brought some other women hope to see a woman at the front of the pack. Yeeeaahh! It sounds silly, but I like the crowd. I saw mile marker 3 and my running buddy was a tad ahead of me. I picked up the pace as we rounded the final corner to the straightaway. He looked over his shoulder and said, “Oh no, you’re not gonna beat me!” and he took off sprinting. I followed. “Don’t let me beat you,” I said. He started to pull away and I couldn’t maintain. “Come on!” he said, like a true running buddy (or as I imagine, like a Coast Guard rescue swimmer to a capsized sailor). Onlookers cheered as we sprinted through the straightaway. Again, I hoped to inspire the women watching. The guy pulled away from me, crossing the finish line a few steps before me. I gave him a high five at the end as we both were handed our metals, bottled water, and bananas. We reached shore – drenched in sweat and salt. But I could breathe again!

I definitely didn’t get a new PR today. More importantly, I was outrun at the end! I checked the official race results later. My time: 22:45. My buddy’s time: 22:46. The beauty of the chip time vs the gun time. I smirked. Friendly competition. Truthfully, if it hadn’t been for him, I would have slowed my swimming – I mean running – much sooner. This is why it’s good to have a running buddy. I guess the same is true of swimming. Someone can push you – and help you get better.

A big thanks to the men and women who serve in the U.S. Coast Guard. On an average day you all save 10 lives and conduct 45 search and rescue missions (GoCoastGuard.com). And for all the less glamorous things you do too – like patrolling for drug smugglers and dealing with inebriated boat-goers: thank you. And to the staff and volunteers of Road Rage Events and my running buddy today on the course: thanks. ~