Some Races You Win by Finishing

Every Sunday, the running club meets on the village green before the 5k race. I am the oldest dog there now.

I used to be the fastest runner in the club. When I was young, I could chase any human up the long hill and still have breath to bark at the top. The others used to call me Coach, because I knew every shortcut and every puddle.

This morning, a young pup ran up to me. He was all legs and no fitness, shaking with excitement.

“Are you racing today?” he asked. “I want to win. I want to be the fastest dog here.”

“I used to want that too,” I told him. “Now I just want to finish.”

The race began. The pup shot off like a stone from a sling, far faster than me. I trotted along at the back, my old legs slow and a little weak.

Halfway up the hill, I found him sitting in the grass, tired out. He had run too fast, too soon.

“Slow down,” I said, walking past him. “The hill is long. Save something for the top.”

He got up and ran beside me, matching my old, steady pace. We were slower than everyone, but we finished together.

“You really were a good coach,” he said, breathing hard.

I wagged my tail. Some races, you see, you win just by crossing the line.