This past weekend I ran the Rider Rattler 5K/10K up at home. I had originally intended on running the 10K, but I’ve been recovering from Achilles tendonitis over the past month and figured a 10K on trails may not be the best idea. I contacted the director a few weeks prior to ensure that I could switch to the 5K and I was super impressed when I received a response within hours letting me know that it was taken care of.

The morning of the race, I was told that I had no shirt because I had “registered too late.” I double-checked my registration while we waited for the race to start, positive (and positively correct in my assumption) that I had definitely registered way ahead of the cut-off. Strike one.

(Although I did email the day after and they apologized for the mix-up and mailed me a shirt to my home, which I very much appreciated.)

I wasn’t a fan of the start… 200 runners packed onto a two-person wide trail with a race director who seemed to only be speaking to the first three people at the head of the pack. I legitimately had no idea what was happening up until we took off because I couldn’t hear a thing. Strike two.

The race itself was beautiful. It winds through a park that takes you through old homesteads, open meadows, and through peaceful woods. While the uphills kicked my butt (they weren’t terrible – I just wasn’t prepared), the downhills let me pick up some speed and shave some minutes off of my finish time. I found myself between two pairs of women who were the perfect pacers for me. They were running the same strategy I was – walk the hills, run the flats and downhills. Every time they ran, I ran. I came in around 48 minutes for 3 1/2 miles which wasn’t bad at all for me considering I haven’t run since Yuengling and I walked about half of it.

Because it rained the entire time, we grabbed our post-race BBQ and bananas, ate in the car, and headed home.

This morning, I was amped to see that pictures of the race had been posted. I had joked with my Dad that I couldn’t wait to see my finish line picture because I finished right in front of a buff shirtless man who had done the 10K, but I’d tell everyone who saw it that I beat him. Imagine my disappointment as I scrolled through the finish line shots to see that they stopped taking pictures at the 5K finish about 6 minutes before I rolled through. There are at least a few handfuls of us, both 5K and 10K finishers, who don’t have finish photos because the photographers couldn’t wait long enough for everyone to finish. Strike three.

I get it. I know that you might be contracted through a certain length of time and you need to make everyone happy, but for a race where everyone was finishing through the same finish, just through different routes, why not take the photos AT the finish, not on the way to the finish? Once again, my fast-for-me time is not good enough. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve finished a race I’ve busted my behind to complete only to see that the photographer is gone, or the food is being put away, or the volunteers at the finish line have dwindled down to one or two handing a bottle of water and maybe a finisher’s medal.

I realize I’m talking about a photo – a still capture of a nanosecond in the grand scheme of life, but that nanosecond is a nanosecond of so much importance to so many of us who will never medal, let alone be first. It’s important to those of us who are out there twice as long as others just to complete the same distance. It’s a confirmation that we’ve achieved our goal, that we’ve succeeded.

Photographers, race directors, and volunteers, I beg you – please make sure everyone’s accomplishments are appreciated and recognized. We’re doing the best we can.