You're A Runner

As the Metro train pulled into the Reliant Park Station, I knew I'd probably have to share my seat with someone. Even though it was only 6:30 on Saturday morning, the cars were filling fast. People were on their way to work in the Medical Center and more than a few of us were headed downtown to a big charity race/run/walk. I noticed a 20-something woman stepping onto the train and scooted over in my seat.

"You're running, too?", she asked.

"I think a lot of us are," I nodded toward the near-full car.

She then told me that this was her first race, that she was training for the New York Marathon. She'd won a spot in the lottery, and her coach wanted her to run a short race this week, as fast as she wanted, to get a feel for the race atmosphere. She's been running long distances in her training runs. She told me she was nervous.

I remembered my first race. I was so scared. And excited. And lost. It was the 5K associated with the Houston Marathon. Huge field of runners and I had no clue what I was doing. I simply showed up and took off like a jackrabbit out of the starting line. It's been my personal best time to this date.

I told her about that first race, and that I still get nervous, that it's normal for some runners.

"Oh, I'm not a runner," she said. "I just started a couple months ago, I entered the lottery for the marathon on a lark."

I looked at her shoes. They were water-stained, dirty, obviously with some miles on them.

We talked a bit more before we arrived at our station. Then we walked together to the staging area, and found the chip lines. She wasn't sure how to tie the chip to her shoe. I told her how I do it, then I remembered something else about the chips. "When you finish the race, there will be a volunteer waiting to cut the chip from your shoe. You don't have to stop right then and there. It's OK to walk around a bit and then come back. Just don't bend over to mess around with the chip yourself, or you might feel faint. This is your race, do what you need to in order to take care of yourself."

We parted ways then, only to briefly see each other at about 18 or 19 minutes in, but only for a moment. She asked me how far until the end. I told her I thought it was less than a mile, and to hang in there, then I lost her.

I was standing on the train platform, waiting for the return trip to the parking lot when she approached me, all smiles. "I did it! My first race!" Her cheeks were flushed.

We boarded the train and stood, holding onto the poles while we recapped the run. She told me she couldn't believe how quickly she came out of the start. She hasn't been running her long runs at such a fast pace and she had to hold back, thinking she might run out of steam. God, that sounded so familiar. She apologized for talking to me at mile 2. "Did that bother you? I didn't mean to bother you."

I reassured her that it didn't bother me at all. I was glad that we ran into each other again.

She told me she was glad I mentioned getting the chip cut off her shoe. "I walked right past them. If I would have stopped, I think I would have passed out. I'm so glad I ran into you. You really helped me today. Thank you."

She asked me if I was going to do anything to celebrate my run today. I laughed. "No, I guess it will be a normal Saturday for me, but what about you?"

"I think I'll have to do something special, after I rest for a couple hours."

The train pulled into Reliant Park, and she moved toward the doors. She told me goodbye, and thanked me again. Just before she left I told her, "Hey, I looked at your shoes, you're a runner."