I figured the race would have been canceled.

On my way to the White Water Center last night for the evening portion of the Tread Nightly/Tread Brightly event, it was pouring down rain. On 485, traffic was at a near standstill, and the road was starting to flood.

Passing the airport, I could see thick bolts of lighting connecting with what must surely have been the Catawba River, right beside the venue.

To my surprise, by the time I handed the attendant $6 for parking, the storm had nearly passed, and rays of sunlight had begun to penetrate the clouds.

Game on.

Despite a nagging issue with my left leg, I felt pretty good and started at a decent pace. Right away, you could tell that nobody would be setting any records. The mud was too thick and trail far too slick for anyone to move that quickly.

Fine with me, I wasn’t there to compete with those folks anyway.

I was there to compete with myself.

Relative to that competition, I was holding my own. Fast enough to push myself while maintaining a degree of safety moving over the wet roots. I wanted to avoid being one of the folks who left with a twisted ankle.

Somewhere between miles two and three, I realized that I was no longer moving so quickly.

I’d fallen in behind another runner, slightly slower than I, and unconsciously slowed to her pace. Without realizing it, I’d cut my effort by ten, maybe 15 percent and all the while the clock was ticking.

“On your left,” I called and then passed her. In no time, she was far enough behind me that I could no longer see her headlamp.

But my complacency had already cost many seconds, if not minutes.

In terms of the race results, that's not the end of the world. I’m not particularly fast anyway, and not likely to be standing on the podium any time soon.

In terms of life, though, the implications are enormous. How often do we find ourselves in situations - in business, with family, at school, or wherever else - that we’re capable of more than we do, yet we settle for merely following the person in front of us.

Letting someone else set the pace, and only doing what’s necessary to keep up.

This is how we become ordinary.

Most of us - and I really believe this - have the ability to become extraordinary in some aspect of our lives. But we live in a society where the bar is set incredibly low. There are far more of us carrying around a sense of entitlement than a sense of empowerment.

If you follow the entitled crowd, if you allow them to set your pace, chances are you’re squandering your shot at reaching your full potential and becoming extraordinary.

The people we choose to follow can have a massive impact on our lives.

Choose wisely.

Here shortly, I'm heading back up for the morning portion of this race.

Today, I’m not following anyone.

I'll set my own pace.