Running vs Racing

Ever since I started running ultra-marathon's I have really struggled with the concept of racing...when I first got into this sport all I wanted to do was go fast.  See if I could beat my times, those of my friends or brothers, and during races pick out people who looked fitter than I was to beat.
But that competitive mindset doesn't really suit me, beating those people or times never really made my race feel better, or gave me a sense of accomplishment that lasted.
Moving to Ultra's allowed my mindset to shift from trying to beat the course and the other runners, to trying to survive in a sense.  How far could I push my body, my mind?  What is the breaking point?  It became less and less about them and more and more about me.
I learned about myself, what worked, what didn't...what my limits were, and how I could extend them.  As my Dad, Big Tom, always says when he comes to see me finish, 'It's not a race, it's a run.'  And for me it was.  It's a race in the sense that there is going to be a winner, but when you're pushing yourself through 50 miles of trails and hills in the pouring rain for over 12 hours, it becomes much less of a race and more a run, an experience. 
I also don't go into Ultra's with a mindset of winning, or placing or anything.  I go in with zero expectations except to finish.  When I was starting out and racing 5-10K's, Triathlon's, even marathons, I would always check the results right away to see where I placed in my division, how many people I passed and so on.  Now I just check my time at the end and say 'Hmm better than last year' or 'Hmm worse than last year' or 'Damn I'm glad that's over.'
But this past Sunday I actually gave myself a chance to race as I took part in the City-Trail Loppet, a 10-mile race combining paved stretches and trails around Minneapolis which ended at the Sculpture Garden.
Waking up that morning I was tired from a long week of work and travel, being just over two weeks removed from running the Grand Canyon rim to rim to rim, and just had the general soreness that accompanies someone who sits too much at their job. 
Ali and I arrived at the starting line and I had no idea what to expect, would I even be able to make it the full 10 miles or would I have to slow way down due to the variety of things cropping up in my legs/feet.
Ali was running the 10K so she had to wait a half hour for her start, as the horn sounded to signal the start of my race, I tried to settle in, letting the first mile or so work out the kinks.
I found a decent rhythm and some people who had a good pace I decided to hang with, slowly my legs working free of their knots.
Turning off the paved road onto the trails, got my juices flowing, letting my body flow over the rocks and roots, up the small hills, and down I felt my mindset shift from run to race.  My watch beeped after the first mile, 7:27, not a bad start; let's see what I can do.
It became tough to keep that pace as we moved into the single track and things got bogged down but whenever I saw an opening I would shoot past a few people to try and gain some ground.
Three miles in as I weaved around and over downed trees, still holding a steady pace, pushing myself when there was an opportunity.
Over railroad tracks, under bridges, along a dock that spans a lake and into familiar territory, knowing the terrain I decided to push even harder, attacking the downhill's, flowing over the rocks and roots, picking off runners in front of me, the goal becoming 'If I pass them they can't pass me back.'
Pounding across 394 and dropping down to Brownie lake, a route I have done a million times, over to the Cedar Lake Trail and into the woods towards Hidden Beach, catch the guy in front of you, move past, spot the next one, reel them in, pass, breathing heavy now, get behind a runner to slow the heart rate down for a minute or two, then pass and push.  Keep pushing.
We crossed under 394 and the end was close, less than a half a mile, push through some single track up a short hill, breath in short bursts, catch a guy in the 10K, pass him, keep him behind you, push harder now that you're on the pavement.
Entering the Sculpture Garden I was pushing pretty hard, turned the corner and ran through the finish line as the PA announcer mispronounced my name.
1:19:38, passed 21 people, got passed by 1, 44th out of 258, nothing spectacular but it wasn't about time, it was about mindset.  I could have taken it easy on myself.  It had been a long week, not much sleep due to travel and stress of starting a season, but I chose to push and never let up.  Very happy and proud of the effort, it wasn't expected but I find that often times the ones we surprise the most are ourselves.