It had started with an alarm. It rang out annoyingly through the dark. Too early but that was the choice she had made. Pulling on the clothes that had been carefully laid out the night before she made her way through the frosty morning and settled into her warm car for the 2 hour drive. The drive itself was uneventful. She watched the sun rise and sang along to the radio. It wasn’t long before she was sipping cold coffee and looking for a place to park.

She hadn’t left herself much time and already people were scurrying to the sign up table. She gathered up her supplies and followed them, like moths being drawn to the light. She didn’t really care what the race was benefiting but the shamrock on her t-shirt made her smile. She slipped it on over her shirt, grateful for the extra layer of warmer on this cold spring morning. In an attempt to stay warm and look like she was a seasoned athlete, she followed the direction of the other runners. They were jogging in place or stretching out their legs.

Everyone was a vision in shades of green. She adored St.Patrick’s day and it seemed the luck of the Irish that this would be her first race.

It was getting close to time now so she allowed her body to be pushed by the crowd to the starting line. Fast runners up front. These were the people that hopped up and down and kept stretching to the whistle. They looked like bridled stallions, just waiting to gallop.

Behind them were the average runners. These people looked less serious. They mainly just bounced around in an effort to keep warmer.

Then there were the runners with dogs. The runners tried to pay attention to starting times while their dogs sniffed each other. In the canines’ heightened sense of excitement they wagged their tails and smacked their lips. This is where she stood. Her dog secured around her waist. He wasn’t much of a runner but neither was she. She looked behind her at the mothers’s with strollers and thought about how many of them would be passing her.

Everyone was close together now. Finally generating the warmth that she had been seeking. The sounds blended together until she couldn’t make out any conversations. She slipped her headphones on and let the scene play out like a movie. Finally she saw the man standing above the crowd as he fired off the starting gun. The serious runners started the wave of movement that ripples back, finally making its way to her. She started to move her feet. It was slow at first with everyone crowded in. The dogs were tripping people in their excitement and she struggled as many did to try and reign in the first explosion of energy from her running buddy.

Somewhere around half a mile the runners finally started to thin out. By now she had fallen into a nice steady pace. Lost in her music and the sound of her breathing. The chaos of her first run began to melt away. This was her first run but it wouldn’t be her last. Somewhere between her disgust for the sport and her craving the feeling of pavement beneath her feet; she had become a runner.