That’s not exactly true, but I’ve always wanted to use that line.

It came to me as I was arriving at my latest race, the Martha Jefferson 8K. I arrived early, alone, and sat in my car chilling out until it was time to hit the bathroom and head for the start line. As I watched other cars streaming in with families and groups, I was again reminded of my separateness. My family is very supportive of my running, but they have never come to watch me or wait for me at the finish line. They have never been there to witness and celebrate my accomplishments in those heady post-race moments. This has mostly been a practical matter of work schedules and child care issues.

My very first race, I asked my parents to come. I envisioned them at the race with my children, watching, cheering, and celebrating. Lots of other women enjoyed this. But I caught a vision of the reality of this situation. While I was running for an hour, they would be bored to death or uncomfortable due to the many unpredictable conditions of an outdoor event. By the time I was done and ready to celebrate, they would be anxious to get the hell out of there.

No. I could relax and enjoy my experience more if they didn’t come. I could focus on the race instead of where they were or what they were doing or if they were enjoying themselves.

Do I feel a little pang that I am alone at these milestone moments? Sure. But I have come to rely on the wonderful camaraderie of the running community. The truth is that it has been strangers that have helped me deal with my weight issues, that kindly and gently introduced me to running, that kept me motivated, that offered me training and coaching, and that have been there to celebrate my successes.

The MJH8K was a dreary, wet day. Many, many volunteers got up early and stood outside in the rain for and hour or two all along the race course to direct, protect and cheer the runners and walkers on . I made sure to smile and say thank you to each and everyone I passed. I may not impress anyone with my speed, but I hoped to impress a few with kindness and appreciation.

As I came off the Belmont bridge in the last quarter mile, I was running with a woman who looked to be about my age. She was fighting for every inch in this last stretch. On the sidelines appeared her teen-age son. He shouted out to her: Come on Mom, I’m gonna run it in with you. He kept talking, cajoling, encouraging and pushing her forward. Half-jokingly, I said to them: I’m gonna lasso myself you two and let you pull me in. This boy - this stranger - turned around to me and said: Come on, I’ll bring you in too. You’re with us.

I don’t know who this family was; I may never see them again, but it was a pleasure to share their joy for a moment. I thank them for their kindness to me.