Believe You Are A Winner

I was naive but ready. For years I had battled with whether I should do it. I had to prove to Dad that I was worth those Pumas he had paid good money for when I was in High School and convinced him that the $9.99 Converse were not the right ones. I started my training January 2007, rain, sleet and snow flakes. Every day, four times a week, 10-toes down I met Coach Ball who was just as committed to training a winner and I would realize my goal if he had anything to say about it. I paid for my bib and waited for it to come in the mail. I practiced and prayed and by June 30 I could honestly high-5 Coach to celebrate.

I was a recycled sprinter turned cross country virgin. I ate spaghetti for dinner, retired at 8PM to make sure I would get enough rest. I could barely contain my jitters and woke up two-hours before my 4AM alarm. I re-read the rules and saw that my most important tool; my winner's playlist was prohibited. So I ran through the playlist one last time to make sure that it was ingrained in my head. I drank the recommended two glasses of water, ate a banana, laced up and headed for the MARTA. I thought it was best that I follow the rules so I wouldn't get disqualified on my first try so I had to leave my iPod home.

My family still sound asleep, I drove to nearest train station alone. I couldn't believe that there were other riders wearing their bibs and had their iPods and MP3 players. The trip was quiet until I got to 5-Points when the crowd swelled and the chatter became a pre-party. At 4AM people were dancing, singing and celebrating... what exactly, I couldn't imagine? We arrived at the Lenox station and everybody was meeting up with their friends and family except me. After I fumbled through the process I learned that I was one of the lucky ones. My starting position was right behind the world champions and those who had earned a place in the front. I was even more convinced that I now had a good chance of winning.

(Are ya'll following me - and can guess where this is going?)

At its peak the weather was predicted to be a nice 72 degrees, the best since its inception 35 years ago. At 44 years old and in tip-top shape I had psyched myself up. I couldn't let Dad down nor could I go home to face my two sons without a blue ribbon after all the work I had put in. I notice people coming and going and never realized that I had forgotten the most important rule - I forgotten to do my warm up run. It was too late. The first gunshot sent of the wheelchairs as the TV cameras scanned past me, I was now part of the winner's circle (sigh).

The second gunshot sounded. World class runners from Kenya, Tanzania, Ethiopia, Nigeria, Jamaica and it seemed like every wanna-be-runner from the United States of America took off. Stuffed like sardines my chorale started off to the likes of a bear just out of hibernation; slow and carefree. My head was clear, I would breeze past all these loosers, (so I thought). Then out of nowhere a man dressed in a Tutu, his friend in a Superman suit and a short somebody was the Big Chicken breezed past me like I was standing still. Seriously? An oversize chicken with a red beak was going to beat me? Never!

I picked up the pace. I dodged the party-animals, the jello-shot slurpers, running-for-a-causers and everybody who stood (and walked) between me and my blue ribbon. The DJs, bands and AJC Peachtree Road Race supporters lined the world's largest 10K race on Atlanta's Peachtree Street for 6.2 miles. It was amazing! As I crossed the finish line I looked over at my time. I was disappointed. I had not beat my goal time. I joined the herd as we were greeted by the most welcomed team - the water crew. I guzzled down to bottles of Dasani Water, proceeded to get my coveted T-shirt, took my commemorative picture and watched everyone laughing and celebrating and having a great time. How could I go home without a ribbon?

I did. I faced my family. I told them my time. My boys insisted on high-fives and said I did great. I went to shower and to bed for a short nap before we would receive guests for the 4th of July cookout that I insisted we host. I anticipated my win. Less than an hour into nap time, friends and family begin arriving to eat, drink and be merry. I didn't feel like it.

The phone rang.

"This is the Atlanta Track Club, AJC Peachtree Road Race. We want you to come up to the podium to receive your 1st place ribbon."

"There must be some mistake." I said.

The lady on the phone repeated my name, my bib number and my time. I was placed first in my age division and chorale group!

The AJC Peachtree Road Race was my first ever 10K race and I finished in first place! I left feeling that I was a looser, never knowing I was already a winner.

This is where my story begins.

I faced the fact that it would be impossible for me to ever win the AJC Peachtree Road Race, no matter how hard I trained or prayed. Age, old knee injuries and 59,999 other track legends, runners, walkers had slapped me into reality. After several more years of running for fun, I retired my 10K shoes and picked up my volunteer hat. Now in my 14th year of volunteering I am one of more than 2,000 dedicated people from all walks of life, culture and communities. Some are putting up the barriers and fencing before the race. Some are making the race course safe and enjoyable. Some are leaders. Some are there just to make sure you enjoy yourself. I will be there 40 days from now at the Expo on July 3rd and at the Water troughs when 60,000 runners and over 100,000 spectators come through Piedmont Park for the 54th time.

But wait...

Join me in volunteering in any way, on any day you can. Go to www.AtlantaTrackClub.org - there's still time to sign up - we need you and I'd love to see you there.