Sophie had her first official Special Olympics experience Saturday — a regional track meet.

It was pretty freaking awesome. Not a lot of pomp and circumstance, no opening ceremonies as promised in the email, and the whole thing felt a little disorganized (although the volunteers were all terrific). But there was a medal ceremony for every heat, and a lot of heartwarming moments.

“So, were there a lot of people?” my mom asked gingerly when I called to report that Sophie had won three third place medals. I knew what she was really asking: “Were there more than three entries in any of Sophie’s races?”

Totally fair question. The answer: There were only three participants each in the 100 m run and the turbojavelin throw — including Sophie.

But there were five in the 50 m run. Five! I’ve never beat anyone at running, ever; watching Sophie kick ass (well, kick two of the four other asses) in that race was one of the most exciting moments of my life. Whoever said, “It’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game” clearly hadn’t seen a race the likes of this one.

Beating someone else didn’t matter to Sophie. She was just as happy being third of three as she would have been with first place. I wonder if that will change as she gets older and participates in more Special Olympic competitions. Part of me hopes it does, but another part wishes it doesn’t.

I loved the 50 m run, but my very favorite moment came when Sophie threw the turbojavelin. There were three kids in her heat — Sophie and two boys, she was the smallest by far, although she was the only one with her own purple javelin. Both of her official throws fell several feet short of her competitors’ — but Sophie didn’t care. She took center stage for each of her turns, heard the (small but meaningful) crowd cheer, and threw her hardest.

When she was done, she threw her arms around me and announced, “I did good!”

She did.

How nice would it be to feel great about yourself simply because you know you tried your best?