I ran in a 5k race near my home on Sunday. It was the Ravenswood 5k. I ran with two of my family members, and what starts out as a friendly morning jog always turns a bit competitive. This race was no exception. It was a cool, gray morning. Perfect for a short run.

When the horn sounded and we started running with 2,795 other people to the strains of "Born to Run," we were bunched together, my family members and I. In the pack, we got separated and by the time we'd run a half mile we were running on our own.

I caught my sister by mile 1, which I ran very slowly -- 9:03 by my watch. That was good, though. I had a couple of beers and some wine the night before (it's my peculiar way of carbo-loading), so I was conserving some energy that morning. I felt good enough, however, to pick up the pace, leaving my sister behind.

I then focused my eye on the other family member in the race. He was about 40 to 50 yards ahead of me. I kept my eye on his black baseball hat bobbing up and down in the distance. I focused on reeling him in over the next 2.1 miles.

At the halfway point there was a water break. I didn't stop. I just took a cup and drank a sip. Most of it poured down my shirt. I tossed the cup aside. (I always enjoy that, like I'm Frank Shorter running the Olympic marathon or something). I looked up and noticed my black hatted competitor/family member was only about 15 to 20 yards ahead of me now. (I discovered later that he had stopped for a leisurely Gatorade).

I maintained my pace and slowly closed the gap. I decided that at 21 minutes on my watch, which would probably come with about 3/4 of a mile to go, I would try to go as fast as I could for the rest of the race. When my watch read 21:00, even though I didn't really feel like it (I didn't feel like being the second family member across the finish line either), I began running as hard as I could muster. 

I was in pain when I passed my family member with about half a mile to go. As I ran past, I held up my hand and said, "Good running, Dad."

I finished 11 seconds ahead of him. He's 68. I'm 44. He ran a 26:34 (8:33 mile pace). I ran a 26:23 (8:30 mile pace). My sister ran a 27:38 (8:54 mile pace). The great thing about it is that each of us is faster than we were two years ago. Getting younger every year.