This time last year I ran in a 5K race. I’m not a strong runner. I don’t run. And yet, as it turned out, I won me a trophy (second fastest time for women ages 30-39). A gen-u-ine trophy! For about a week I was really cool in my hyper-competitive, sports-loving son’s eyes. He even showed off my trophy to his friends.
This year I didn’t run. Wise move. The woman who finished third this year beat my time by more than ten minutes. Don’t tell my son.
p.s. Today my son ran in a one mile long, non-competitive race for the kids. They called it a “fun run.” Isn't that an oxymoron?
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