I almost didn’t do this one.

It was a busy week at work, and May is always the busiest month of the year in general. School activities are winding down, and it seems like all the award banquets, concerts, class parties, and swim competitions are stacked on top of each other in a futile attempt to wrap everything up with a neatly tied bow.

I didn’t even sign up until Friday morning—and the race was Saturday.

I guess I was giving myself an out. In case I was too tired. In case my Thursday evening run didn’t feel good enough or didn’t give me the confidence I needed. In case I finished the race with nothing to show for it but a worn-out body and a disappointed soul.

But my Thursday night run actually felt pretty decent. I managed to stay within a 10-minute mile, which is pretty great for me. Even still, I didn’t rush to the race website to register. I hesitated. And by the time I finally did, the option to select a t-shirt size was already gone.

“SOLD OUT!” it said—in all caps, with an exclamation point—as if it were sharing exciting news, and not my obvious disappointment.

Bummer. Procrastination had screwed me yet again. No race t-shirt for me.

I signed up anyway. Because if I didn’t push myself, who would?

T-shirt or no t-shirt, I was doing this race. I’d promised myself five 5Ks this spring. I knew how busy I would be. I knew the exhaustion would slowly creep in and settle. I knew how easy it would be to convince myself that the effort I’d already put in was enough, and that at least I’d tried.

I mean, surely I was doing better than some, right?

But still Saturday morning came, and I showed up. Bib secured. Finger hovering over my Nike Run app, ready to log this race, hoping I’d see some progress… but not entirely confident that I would.

Music was blasting, the MC was drinking a beer as she ushered all of us to the starting line, and there were boxes of donuts lined up at the finish line so I already knew I’d made a solid choice–this was definitely my kind of 5k!

Normally, I try to stay towards the back of the pack and let the real runners take the lead, but this time I decided to try a different approach. I ran with the 5 minute milers, those that run 5ks just because they’re bored, the ones who have all the latest apparel and cool hydration vests. I ran for as long as I could with them and then slowed to my normal pace. Looking around, I found my people. The ones without a stereotypical “runner’s body.” The ones whose pace I could probably match walking but who, technically, never stop running. The ones who might look like they’re struggling to finish, but for some reason, are always the first to sign up for the next race.

My goal has always been to beat my previous self and I suppose that’s good. This time, I decided to pick someone, (anyone really), and make sure that no matter what, I crossed the finish line before them.

I found Green Pants Lady jogging next to me. Even when I stopped to walk, I could still match her pace. But the amazing thing about her? She never stopped running. She was off in her own little world, quietly making her way to the finish line just like the tortoise in The Tortoise and the Hare. And we all know how that ends: slow and steady wins the race.

Then I spotted Beats Headphones Girl. Cool, calm, and collected, everything I’ve ever aspired to be. This wasn’t just a 5K for her. This was a break from her kids and her husband. A moment to do her own thing, to breathe, to be happy. She wasn’t just logging miles, she was chasing peace and releasing those endorphins before diving back into the trenches of motherhood.

Sometimes I let Green Pants Lady take the lead, but I always kept her in my peripheral vision. It was nice to know she was there, pushing through slow and steady. If she could do it, I could too and hopefully with a much better time. Beats Headphones Girl and I were in a constant neck and neck. Sometimes I’d be in front setting the pace, other times, she’d jog past me in as I tried to catch my breath. Come on girl, we got this.

As we neared the finish line, I started to question my ability to finish ahead of the two people I’d chosen to beat. I was tired and I didn’t think I’d made any better time than the race I’d done two weeks ago. Why am I even wasting my time anyway? What am I even doing here? But somewhere I found the will deep inside of me to push through and force myself to pick up and move forward. Faster. Stronger, Better than two weeks ago.

I left Green Pants Lady in my dust. Beats Headphones Girl was still trudging along when I passed her, completely unbothered, lost in her own rhythm, not letting anyone—or anything—rain on her parade. Didn’t she know we were racing?

Every step felt heavier, but I could feel the finish line pulling me forward. I had something to prove. Not to the spectators, not to the other runners, but to the tired version of me who almost didn’t show up. I was going to finish strong, even if it meant crossing that line red-faced and breathless. I could almost taste my donut now.

And finish strong I did—with my best time of the season, faster miles per minute, and as a surprise bonus, I even scored a race t-shirt since they had a few extras.

The lesson? Show up anyway. Even when you’re tired. Even when you’re busy. Even when you’re not sure you have it in you. Because sometimes the hardest part is getting there, and sometimes, just showing up is what unlocks your best day yet.

Maybe not fast. Definitely not last. And absolutely not done yet.