As I took my spot on the starting line for 10-minute-mile runners at the Beach to Beacon, I felt socially awkward and unsure where I fit in. Standing among strangers, who all seemed to have their circle of friends, I was alone, wondering how this event would play out.

Would I survive this once in a lifetime experience? And would it be all that I had hoped for? How had my training stacked up to those around me? Were there other loafers like me?

With thoughts like these swarming in my head, I spotted her – a woman standing to the right of me, in what I could see was the same state. Alone, and taking it all in.

“Have you run this before?” I asked.

“No, it’s my first time,” she replied. We compared our training regimen and running experience. I was quite sure she’d be leaving me in the dust come race time, but for the moment, I was happy to have a friend on the starting line.

The race began, and five minutes after the start, the 10-minute-mile pack was able to cross the starting line. It was then that it struck me how social running could be, when paired up with similar abilities. A man to my left stated his strategy, “Start off slow, and then taper off.”

The record setters were long gone and heading for the finish, so why not enjoy the race? It hit me then – I may not enjoy running, but I sure was enjoying the people I was running with. And my new found friend, Julie, had decided to stick with me, and pull me along.

I took in the whole experience of the Beach to Beacon – running through every shower mist and grabbing cups of water at each mile. As mile three came and went, I told Julie I had entered uncharted water – the most I had run in my Beach to Beacon training was four three-mile runs. But moving toward mile four, the big speakers were out, and the rock and roll sounded giving me an energy surge and a pleasing thought: These people had brought it all out for us, as the crowd encouraged us on every mile of the race.

Never once did I wonder whether I’d finish. Never once did I consider walking. By the time mile five came, my mindset was that it was all down hill from here, which, in reality, couldn’t be further from the truth. Mile five is the toughest mile of the course, but by now, my mind was totally in the game. I had never in my life run more than four miles – so all of this was totally uncharted water and I was on adrenalin high with a crowd growing in size, and a running companion at my side. I told Julie, it may be premature, but I may be able to throw in a kick at the end.

By mile six, I was out of my mind. Still going strong, I remember little of it, except turning the bend and seeing and hearing a friend shout my name and encourage me when I needed it most. Julie had broken away from me, and was heading up the steepest of all hills in the race. It didn’t seem fair.

“Why would this steep hill come now and where’s my running buddy going?” I thought. I charged to catch Julie, because I knew that if she broke away, I’d never find her at the end to thank her for her support. I managed to keep her in sight, and after we had crossed the finish line, she waited, and we embraced.

Following the race, I feasted my sights on the massage tent. Standing in line, I met a psychologist and a seasoned marathon runner. Both concluded that running truly is a mind game. I had to agree. The marathon runner explained that if you can physically run five miles, you can run a marathon. “A marathon? Are you out of your mind?” I thought.

As I waited for my massage, my husband brought me water and food – banana, bagel, cliff bars. Juggling all of this, I noted that it felt similar to being at a cocktail party. A plate in one hand, a beverage in the other and great conversation mixed in, how do you manage to eat? No longer feeling socially awkward, I felt the part of an accomplished runner and was drunk on the whole experience.

Was a runner born? I know one thing: You can do anything when you set your mind to it. Friends make all the difference in the world. I made a lot of new friends, and in recent days, have discovered my best friend of all – Advil.

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