The Time I Won A Race But Really Was Just Looking For Donuts

Today on my nice, easy stroll around the park I saw a runner. She had a desperate, grief-stricken look on her face that seemed to say "I hate my life" and suddenly I had a flashback to a time when I, too, ran....

It was a long time ago.

I was 14, and working in the laundry hut at a girls' summer camp with my best friend, Kara. It was each of our first "real" jobs, and we took our work there very seriously, for the most part.

However, we frequently relied on external sources (music, food, flirting with the maintenance guys...whatever it took) to get us through the long, hot day in the laundry room tucked off the beaten path of the girls' bungalows. So when one morning our boss - a wiry, energetic lady - popped her head around the concrete door frame and sang, "DOONNNUUUTTTSS!" well, we knew we needed some. "Go get yourselves a box!" she said merrily. "They're in the dining hall, but you better hurry before they're all gone!"

Kara turned to me and said, "If you go, go fast! It looks like it's gonna rain! Maybe run?"

Now, even at age 14, I knew myself well enough to know that running was NOT one of my spiritual gifts. But, I began a brisk jog towards the dining hall. I still remember the feel of my 2-for-5-dollars pair of Old Navy flip-flops sliding under my sweaty heels.

And Kara was right about the rain. Soon, it was a steady, warm drizzle, like many we had that summer. I took off my wet flip-flops and held them - and all the pine needles stuck to them - against my thighs as I busted into a full sprint the last few yards to the dining hall.

But suddenly, up ahead, there was clapping. Cheering. "YEAAAH!! WOOO!!" I kept running but looked over my shoulder to see who those people were cheering for, but... there was no one. How odd. I began to feel slightly uncomfortable.

I felt the warm, wet ground pounding under my bare feet as I passed through a crowd of fresh-faced counselors screaming "YOU'RE AWESOME!" and "GOOD JOB!" as I approached them. They even had signs! "YOU FINISHED THE RACE!" Someone said to me, and another counselor added, "WOW! You finished super early!" but I was in shock, and all I could think was "I just wanted donuts. I didn't ask for this!" 

I knew this situation had the potential to become extremely, extremely awkward for all parties involved. So, like one does when one fears impending humiliation, I RAN AWAY. Without hesitation, I walked right through the group of loud, hyper (albeit very nice) counselors and sped-walked cautiously into the dining hall (didn't want to slip on the wet floor - that's another story) where I grabbed a box of donuts and walked, very casually, in the rain, back to the laundry hut.

That was my first and my last race. But I can say I know the overwhelming feeling of crossing a finish line. And it's a good thing I can still remember the rush that comes from winning first place in a girls'-summer-camp-early-morning race, because I'll probably never feel it again.