The first time I did the 8k, my friends and I were followed by our very own police escort. Dead last, the runners long gone, a police car behind, and George Thorogood blaring through the constable's speakers as we crawled through the quiet residential streets.
The second time I did the 8k – a year later – I came in ninth for my age group. That means I was only six spots (and five minutes) away from finishing in the top three. I met my goal of coming in under fifty minutes. I also achieved a personal best for pace.
As proud as I am of the second time, the story I'm proudest of is the first time. I laugh about it. I tell it to anyone who'd listen. It's a great story and one I hope to tell my kids and their kids one day.
Who else can say they had their very own police escort? Not many people. I may've finished the second time faster, but the first time....the first time we finished in style.