There is a difference between running and racing. When you run, you go one pace. It’s an eight-minute mile, or six, or a 5:30 tempo run. It’s even Steven.

When you compete, you’re not running, you’re “racing.”

A race isn’t one foot in front of the other. Anyone can do that.

A race is your eyes glued to a Columbia jersey, jabs in your side, and your legs not thinking.

The 95-pound girl with the Princeton-colored bows in her hair; she’s pulling the strings now. But this is your race too, so you have to tug back.

You cannot control what other athletes are doing, how they have practiced these last few weeks, how many miles they have logged, or what they didn’t eat – but you can control you.

So, when the pack goes out at a six-minute clip, drops to a seven-minute run, and then pounds out the hills on the back of the course with ferociously fresh legs, you gotta go.

It’s not a test of strength that you have to pass; a race is working your mind.

In a race, all the athletes are capable of running even mile times, but they change up the clip because they are trying to screw with the “mental.”

Racing is a head game where you need guts, not dice. There is no need for gambling, just a projected confidence in ability.

To race, you need 100-percent self security.

It doesn’t matter if you can squat 185 pounds, or if you log 80 miles every week (that’s a lot of miles), or if you can run a 50- second quarter in practice (that’s a fast time) – it matters when you get to the line, you are confident in your ability to successfully succeed.

A lot of people say that “running is a metaphor for life.” Running isn’t.

Anyone can run just like anyone can live. So I guess that is applicable. However, I would say that racing is more applicable to life.

So get out and race, kids. Don’t just jog around the park.