Before the gun went off for the Zooma Cape Cod 10K race this past weekend, I looked around and wondered who else would go out in front. I was reluctant to take the lead and no one seemed all that eager, except the guy. The one guy in front of everybody. What was this guy doing? Did he show up thinking he would dominate at an "all-women's" race? I mean there were other guys racing but they all seemed to be there supporting their significant others. Not this guy. He was gunning for it. We tied the line and he took off, not at a blistering pace but he stayed ahead looking quite comfortable. For a mile and a half I stayed just 100 yards behind him, trying to race my race but still wanting to catch him. If there were runners behind me I couldn't hear them. So I set my sights on The Guy and told myself I couldn't let him win.

I entered Saturday's 10K on a bit of a whim. We were at the Zooma Cape Cod race with my little fledgling company, RunFarGear. Trying to sell the inspirational running apparel we make and raise money for the Children's Hospital at Dartmouth Hitckcock at the same time. A registration came with the booth if I was interested. How could I not be?

But I almost didn't run. After taking four days off from running I was starting to feel better after fighting a cold for nearly two weeks. The fatigue was gone but I still had a nagging tickle in my throat and dry cough. I hemmed and hawed and thought, maybe I shouldn't run? But on Friday night after a day on my feet at the expo I was feeling OK and thought, why not? I'll regret it if I don't. And so I laid out my race clothes.

I'd looked at past results from previous years and noted that the 10K times weren't super fast. I knew I had a chance of finishing in the top three if I ran a good race.

And the conditions were perfect for a good race: cool, no wind and a relatively flat course bookended by rolling hills.

I knew I wanted to start slow, run smooth in the middle and give it my best for a fast finish. And I did just that, although my finish wasn't as fast as I had hoped thanks to the "rolling" hills.

A mile and half into the race, still tailing The Guy by a hundred yards, the course took a turn off the roads and onto a bike path. I studied the race map right before the race start, mostly because I'd had an anxiety dream where the course was unmarked and I ran the wrong way. My dream turned out to be true. And The Guy, ran right past the bike trail, following the lead police car down the road. I hesitated, ran a few more steps following the guy down the road and then stopped. "It's the bike path right?!?" I said to the bike pacer next to me. "Yeah. It's the bike path." But his voice was filled with as much doubt as my own. "It's the bike path. I know it is." And so I turned around and started booking it towards the bike path, this was my break I thought. I can beat The Guy! My paced quickened, I was eager to see a mile marker that told me I was right about the course. I saw a marker ahead and breathed a sigh of relief, but as we got closer (the bike pacer still riding next to me), I saw that the marker said Mile 5. My mind exploded with doubt and I wondered if I was the one who was wrong. I did this shuffle step and hesitated thinking I should turn around. But the bike pacer pointed out it was the half marathon marker. Ok. Ok. It's OK. Sarah. Keep going. A quarter mile after the five mile maker, we came up on the 2 mile 10K marker. I was on the right track. I breathed deep and settled into a rhythm. The Guy was still behind me, I had to keep my lead.

"Thanks for sticking with me!" I said to the bike pacer. "No problem," came his reply. "I'm not sure why the pacer went straight. They should have a sign there."

"The pacer? You mean I'm not racing him?"

"No," the biker laughed. "No he's the pacer."

"Oh! I thought I was racing him!" I said, breathlessly.

We continued on the bike path, my pace was quick and fluid and my watched beeped a the three mile mark and I saw 6:52. What a confidence boost! A whole sub 7 mile. The wooded bike path suddenly opened up into a spacious cranberry bog, the blue sky, the cool air, the flat bike path--I felt like I was in my element. I was working hard, but I felt good. And then I heard the footsteps. It was the pacer, catching up to me. He matched my stride and I let him go. I wasn't racing him, I was racing myself and if I wanted anything left for the rolling hills I had to run my race. I watched as he an the bike pacer got further away-they stayed just in sight for the remainder of the race.

With no one behind me I knew I would win the race. I just wanted it to be my best race. So I pushed. I saw another sub 7 min mile tick by at the 4 mile marker: 6:58. Then the course turned on to side streets and the rolling hills slowed me a bit as I kept pushing towards the finish: 7:16, 7:58. I cruised into the finish area and crossed the finish line in 44:40. Almost a minute and half faster than my 1oK a week ago.

I'm pleased with the results, I'm amused at how the race played out and I'd love to run it again. It was a gorgeous setting, beautiful course (and the race director assured my they'll make sure the giant arrow and 10K sign get to it's proper place next time around).