Even before Dimity and I started Another Mother Runner (15 years ago next month!!), I’d break into a sweat when someone asked me, “When’s your next race?” I barely ever ran races in my 20s and 30s. I can count on one hand the number of 5K races I’ve done; I’ve run 14 marathons total and only three of them were before I turned 40. A few years later, Dimity and I birthed this community, and it felt like it was partly my job to run races. It was, after all, a race—the 2007 Nike Women’s Marathon—that started this whole wonderful thing. Yet I still only run a smattering of races, fewer with each passing year. 

My recent response to an ongoing question

For a lot of people, races are what keep them accountable and loyal to running. Without a 10K or a half marathon on the calendar, the daily runs wouldn’t happen. I respect and admire that dedication to keep signing up for another “carrot” to dangle in front of their face. Yet I’m not wired that way. The run itself, the being outside, the feeling liberated, the possibility of #foundchange, the chance to listen to audiobooks and podcasts: those are my incentives. 

Yet I am a competitive person: When I train for a race, like I did last summer, I enjoy looking at my splits or seeing how my overall pace compares to previous ones. I definitely had goals for that race, just as I had for previous ones. Heck, I even went so far as to formulate an A-goal, a B-goal, and a C-goal…and I was pretty dang proud when I nailed my B-goal running by feel. But I’ll confess: The very first thought that popped into my head when I crossed the finish line was, “thank heavens THAT’S over!” 

In finish area w/ my race-twinsie, BAMR Lisa

With my big-PR days behind me, standout memories from recent-ish races focus on people instead of paces. Like Lisa from the 2017 Twin Cities Marathon: We’d met at the expo, then reconnected in the race because we were both wearing the same tank top from our store. We traded leads several times during the race, ultimately “pulling” each other through the final miles as we ran (mostly) wordlessly side by side. (We are still friends, and the memory is incredibly meaningful to me.) Or Chad, a random guy who sidled up to me near Mile 2 of the 2023 Hilton Head Quarter and Half Marathon, telling me his race strategy was to find a person running a steady pace and to stick with them. We talked sporadically, until I needed to conserve my oxygen for my hard-working muscles. His faith in my ability to run sure and steady fueled my drive through those miles—helping him helped me. And even spectators: Seeing my friend Melissa holding a sign and cheering about 800 yards from the finish line of the Portland Half revved my engines so much that my final mile was my fastest mile!

Recently, when one of our brand ambassadors casually asked me in a text, “What’s on your race calendar this year?” I carefreely typed, “Empty!”

Yet my innate competitive nature still smolders, and the other day it fired up: It was time to sign up for something. Thinking about human connection, I opted for a local pickleball tournament, instead of a race. A tournament would ensure a bunch of games (something I always crave!) and, more importantly, a chance to hang out with my playing partners in between matches. During the weekend-long event, I get to play and gab with Jill, my partner in the women’s doubles, on Saturday, then Wally, the fellow I’m playing with in the men’s doubles, the next day.

Wally, second from left, and Sarah, far right

Sure, I want to win (B-goal) or finish top-3 (C-goal), but my A-goal? Forging a tighter friendship with both Jill and Wally—and laughing a lot.  Maybe the question to ask me now is, “When’s your next tournament?”