There are people who are real athletes. Runners who train hard, strong, and constantly to be the best, the fastest, the fittest, the strongest. Runners who work non stop to “be all they can be,” and who only race to win. They’re called “elite” runners because they really are. Elite, that is. Their numbers are few, but their athletic prowess is something to behold and admire. Something to aspire to, even when the aspiration is completely unattainable.
Then, there are the runners who are chasing them. The ones who also race to win, even though they may not be “elite” runners. These runners are strong competitors and usually win all the local races and place in national ones. They win, place, and show in all the age group divisions, make racing look easy, and are fit, thin, wiry, and strong.
Finally, there’s the rest of us. Those of us who love the way running makes us feel, but know we’ll never be “real” competitors. We might win an age group division in a small race where there are only a few in our age group, and we are the younger ones; but, even those wins are rare. We proudly display our finisher’s medals and race numbers, our 3rd place medal (never mind that there were only 3 in our age group), and proclaim to the world that we are “runners.” We run half-marathons. We’re in training. I proudly embrace that group. I’m one of them. And, that’s okay. It wasn’t always okay, but that’s what this blog is about: The Rest of Us. And learning to love being one of them.