Sweet victory

I don't wake up at 5:30 a.m. very often. When I do, it's usually to catch a plane to some exotic land. Or there are also those few times where I've woken up in the wee hours of the morning out of fear that I failed to save the world from its impending doom. Today I woke up because of a new fear: running a 12k race in Stillwater. With my eyes still groggy from a lack of sleep (4 1/2 hour to be exact) I dragged myself out of bed, threw on my running shoes, ate a bowl of delightful cereal and was out the door. I (along with my dear friend Dani) embarked to run our first race ever.

When we arrived to the Stillwater High School to take the shuttle the starting line, I felt like I was back in high school—even though I was homeschooled and the majority of the bus was filled with middle aged men and women. Still, with my many bus rides that I've taken I've never heard so much noise and "excited" clamor. Did they realize that it was 6:30 a.m.?! What is there to talk about at such an early hour?

We arrived at the starting line downtown Stillwater on 95 with 20 minutes to spare before the race. Everywhere I looked I saw old men with cut-off shorts, women in their 50s wearing short shorts and sports bras, and the longest portapotty lines I've ever seen. Plus, I can't forget those seasoned runners with their water bottle belts and forehead bands.

Once the race began we were on our merry way. There were people of all ages, shapes and sizes running side by side. Sure we've all had different life experiences. And sure, we all have different dreams, values and beliefs. But running on that pavement today created a bond that made me understand what draws so many people to running these races. It's more than just "getting in shape" or winning a prize. It's about sharing an experience—one that calls you to train for weeks, wake up earlier than early, and want to fall on your knees in exhaustion and pain. Not to mention there's the satisfaction of making bystanders laugh when bolting across the finish line while flailing my arms in sweet victory.