The week leading up to a big race is always the worst. I, for one, am constantly checking the weather, trying to figure out what I’m going to wear, what time to arrive, if I’m going to have a support crew (thanks Dad!) and what time is my goal time. The DAY leading up to a race is worse. Especially working at the store with customers who have all the same concerns that I do, and they expect me to have the answers.

I think I pulled up weather.com at work every 15 minutes on Friday in hopes of it changing. The forecast for Saturday’s Fifth Third River Bank Run didn’t change: high of 42, windy and rain. Cold, wet, gusty—perfect. Thoughts of ditching the race and just enjoying a weekend with my Dad crossed my mind more than once, then I felt wimpy when runners would come into the store buying new gear for the pending storm, preparing for anything and everything, I had to do it, 15.5 miles is what I trained all winter for.

I got out of work with a super negative attitude: my feet hurt, I was tired, the weather was going to suck. But I knew if I was going to finish what I had started in January my outlook had to change. I got home, took a shower and headed to the expo. Seeing the runners, vendors and volunteers changed my outlook and pumped me up for the race. I spent a relaxing evening with my Papa, tossed and turned all night, woke up 45 minutes before my alarm to a rumbling sky and made a pot of coffee. I was ready.

Every time I race ask myself why I do it. Why do I stand in a corral with hundreds (sometimes thousands) of other runners? I can go out and run the distance on my own, I can race the clock by myself for free, (let’s face it, I’m not winning any medals, so it’s always a race against myself and the clock.) The whistle blows, the gun goes off, someone shouts “GO” and we all start running: that’s the moment I remember why I do this.

The first 2 or 3 miles I feel like I’m being pulled forward by an invisible current. All the runner’s footsteps, the shouts of volunteers and supporters remind me why we do this, why we train so hard all winter for one day. We do it to feel that pull, to be supported and cheered on by strangers. Everyone is doing the same thing with different goals in mind. It’s a day to celebrate what we dedicated to finish way back a few months ago.

Then mile 9 hits. This is my tough mile, this is when I start questioning myself, wondering, again, why I put my feet, knees, calves…through this. Inevitably my big toes start to get blisters, my hip generally begins to ache and I begin to doubt my ability to finish. At this point in the race I hear behind me “Keep it up! Power up this hill guys, you can do it!!!” it’s the 8:30 pacers (you guys were awesome!!) They were catching up and I didn’t want them to, so I listened—I powered up the hill. “This is what we trained for on those cold mornings!! You got it!” he was talking directly to me, I thought.

Again, I’m reminded why I race. Camaraderie. At about mile 11 I see a friend and we run together for a few miles, chat, catch up, support and power through another 3 miles—at this point I tell her to go for it, I can’t keep her pace but thanks for the couple mile support and she pushes forward to meet her goal.

The final shoot to the end is the most powerful: hundreds of finished runners, volunteers, and supporters are cheering hard for ever-single-runner. It’s impossible to feel alone in this tunnel of human support, it’s impossible to feel as tired as you really are, adrenaline kicks back in and you fly to the finish where you are given a medal and water and food and high-fives from random fellow finishers! It’s one of the best feelings ever.

It doesn’t end there: in my tired haze search for my Dad who has warm clothes for me, while looking around I see friends that I didn’t know where running finish, I see friends that didn’t run but came out to support. They hug and don’t care about how sweaty and gross I am, a congratulatory hug is the best. My Dad finds me, and we find coffee and showers and a great lunch.

So why do I run races? I’m still not sure. Running is such a community effort, people do it for many reasons, each and every component is so important and appreciated. I think maybe that feeling of closeness to people I don’t even know, we pull each other through to the end, we high-five at the end, and then we talk about the hill on the 10^th mile and how lucky we are it didn’t rain, after the race is over we forget the pain we felt during the race.

Congratulations to all the River Bank participants, keep running, keep racing, and keep supporting each other!