You Never Forget Your First...

…Mile.


I got to hand out medals at the 1 mile Fun Run that we held in conjunction with the Swamp Run last Saturday. Although only the kids were supposed get medals, the run is for both kids and adults. And, honestly, I did hand adults out medals, too.

The race starts out with dozens of kids and a handful of adults, paper numbers pinned on their shirts. When the horn blares, the kids take off like a bunch of Kenyan marathoners, except that they’re hollering and wearing shoes. The cacophony of running shoes and basketball shoes and the occasional pair of flip flops striking the ground is deafening. And then they’re gone, out of sight, and it’s quiet. We stand under the finish line clock as it ticks away, and we wait.

About six minutes later, the first boy and girl fly across the finish line- invariably some cross-country stars from the local middle school. They run off to the side of the road and hurl, and then we wait some more.

Then more runners start to trickle in. The kids seem to have employed various race strategies-- although most strategies seem to consist of running as fast as you can until you are unable to breathe, walking, catching your breath, and then taking off running as fast as you can again. This strategy seems to work remarkably well for the younger set- they have no concerns about pacing or finishing kicks. They just haul ass down the road.

Here comes a girl in a skirt and a pair of green flip-flops. And a little guy in a huge white t-shirt who hasn’t stopped smiling yet—I call dibs on him. I want to give him his medal, because he’s so freaking adorable.

Then here come the kids walking across the finish line, exhausted, unable to breathe, and still trying to smile when they take their medal. Then one or two with skinned knees from when they tangled arms and legs with the other kids at the start line.

Then here come the youngest “runners” in the back of the pack: holding Mommy’s hand, getting carried on Daddy’s shoulders, and riding in strollers. Everyone gets medals. We all love medals.

In the midst of all of this action are the adults running the Fun Run alongside the kids. Some of them are out there, encouraging and having fun with their kids. But, admixed among the competitors are some grownups for which the Fun Run is an epic event. They are running their first mile, ever. They may have done the distance at the track, or on the treadmill, but this is really their first “official” mile. They are going to run one mile, in public, without stopping.

They wake up in the morning, nervous. They’re afraid they’re not going to be able to make it. They’re afraid they’re going to have to stop and walk. They’re afraid that people are going to make fun of them for running in a “kiddie” race and they’re afraid, God forbid, of being the last person to cross the finish line.

So, when they do cross that line, I make sure that they get a medal. Handing out those medals makes me the happiest. These folks just became runners.

“What turns a jogger into a runner? A race number.” You’re no longer just “working out”, or “exercising”. You’re not just trying to get into shape or to lose weight. You are a runner.

Over a decade later, and after four Ironman Triathlon finishes, Allen still treasures his One Mile Fun Run ribbon- he keeps it near the running trophies and marathon medals and Ironman paraphernalia.

I never entered a Fun Run, or got a medal. But I can still tell you the exact date: January 20, 2002. I was wearing a blue and grey pair of New Balance trail shoes that fit horribly, but were my first real pair of running shoes. I ran up and down the streets in my neighborhood until my pedometer read one mile. And then I stopped and marveled. I had run an entire mile without stopping. No finish line, no medal- but I couldn’t have been happier. So I turned the corner and ran another mile. And I never stopped running.

Congrats to all of the Fun Run finishers. We’ll see you at the start line soon.