The first race

It was race day and I was more excited than I ever thought I was going to be. As I stretched out getting ready for the run my dad gave me some advise. Him being a military man his whole life he knew from PT tests that the young guys who bolted out of the starting gate normally gassed themselves out and were walking by the end. He told me to remember my pace and not to get caught up in the other runners at the start. We started the race and my dad and I stayed together for about the first mile and a half then the hills got to me. I started walking as I saw my dad take off into the distance. One of the most important lessons I have learned from running is to not walk. No matter how slow your run comes to, do not walk. It throws you off and you are destined to walk again once you start running. I continued on my run and tried to push through the hills. Finally I was on the home stretch and was battling a guy back and forth trying to keep a good pace to finish it out. My dad finished with a 39 minute time and I came across the line at 43. My first run and I got creamed but my old man. After the race we saw all of the activities after and we got the bananas and other treats that they hand out and I  had finally received my first T-shirt for running an event. Oh was I proud. Fueled by the adrenaline my dad and I signed up for another race a month later this time a 8k just over 5 miles, I had my revenge race to show him up.