There was a tough 5K race a few years ago that I was excited about. They give cool trophies to age group winners and I wanted another one. The week before the race a student slammed her huge steel sculpture into my knee cap. It hurt during the entire race.
Coming off of my first half marathon where Blue coughed in my face and got me sick the week before the race, and my first full marathon where I managed to get COVID-19 the day before the race, I guess you could say I was paying a little extra attention last week. I was bathing in hand sanitizer when one of my students texted me to say she had a fever and wouldn't be in class. Ugh. I side-eyed everyone with a cough or a sniffle. I kept my distance. My kids were claiming allergies were to blame for their congestion and I hoped they were correct.
On Friday I felt good. I ran my 5K at an easy pace and I tried to take it easy all day. I avoided any hard work and tried to save my energy. Races make me anxious and I feel ridiculous about it. Race anxiety for a 5K race for a person who literally runs a 5K every day for years makes zero sense to me. It'a little more understandable for a bigger race. I managed to go to bed early Friday night and the anxious thoughts did not ruin my sleep. That 4:25 am alarm clock did ruin it, however. I jumped up excited and sleepy and I walked gingerly to the bathroom in the dark to get ready. I was glad to be feeling good. Everything was going well.
I drove an hour to the starting line and parked with no issues. I was early and I wasn't mad about that. I was dressed for the weather...mostly. I knew it was going to be cold at the starting line and it's worse because you just have to stand there shivering for about 30 minutes until the race begins. Then you're sweating for 2 hours until you stop and get really cold again. There's no way to dress for that in my experience. I tossed a clean shirt and hoodie into the family's car for the finish line. I was wearing a long sleeve running shirt, shorts, ridiculously red socks, my hat and my gloves. I sat in the car until just a couple of minutes past when I was supposed to be at the starting line and then I ventured out into the cold.
I had an energy gel in my pocket. I zipped my keys into another pocket and I put on my gloves. I walked the short walk to the starting line to begin sizing people up. Everyone seems so excited at a starting line. There are fit people and really unfit people. Some are just there to take photos and drop runners off and some are actually running. Some have super cool running kits or outfits they've planned and they're all matchy-matchy. Some are almost naked. Some are running to warm up. Some look like they're 80 years old and some look like kids. Every body type you can imagine is there. It's a visual treat for an observant person.
This is the first race that I've paid attention to pacers. These are people with signs on sticks that have a goal time printed on them. I found the 1:52 pacer and studied her. I tried to remember what she was wearing just in case she didn't hold that sign up the whole time. I studied the people gathering around her too. Some were older than me, some younger, some were more fit and some were not fit looking at all. I decided that these were my people. That one guy though, he looked my age and I was going to have to beat him. Sorry dude. I can't help it.
I'm naturally competitive. This is a blessing and a curse but honestly, mostly a blessing. It keeps me drawing and sculpting on lazy days and it makes me run faster in races. If you're in front of me in a race, I'm going to try to pass you. If you look my age, I'm going to try to beat you. And if I can't, I'm probably going to call you some names quietly in my head. I'm not proud of that last part. I'm always looking around at a race, always sizing people up. I did not expect to be anywhere near placing for my age group but you know, anything can happen. I still remember the sting of that one guy passing me a few years ago and I ended up placing 4th in my age group and I didn't get a cool medal. I still hate that guy.
I stood there in the cold and tried to keep the anxiety and negative thoughts quiet. I tried to think positive thoughts. I tried to see myself finishing in under 2 hours. I thought about breakfast and coffee. I thought about not having to do long runs again for a while. I rarely talk about a race publicly until it's over. I hate the idea of saying I'm going to do something and then failing. Standing there in the cold I took a selfie with the start line behind me and decided I would post it. Before I put my phone away it buzzed with a text message. Before each of Violet's races I try to make it over to her and whisper "Be a badass". It makes her laugh and reminds her of her strength. The text was from her.
The wind was cold but had less impact when people started packing in. People were nice and didn't talk to me. I appreciated that. The pacer told someone she'd talk their ear off and that was a red flag. There was another pacer ahead of us with 1:45 on his sign. That was probably pushing it for me. I stood my ground. The gun went off and the crowd lurched forward as the elite runners took off. Then we stopped to keep from rear-ending the people in front of us before slowly taking off in a jog to keep from tripping and falling down. The pacers are helpful because they're experienced runners and they know to keep it slow at first and then get a little faster with each mile. Inexperienced runners take off too fast and get tired too soon. Once we hit an actual running pace, around a half mile, I felt like we were running slow. I thought about ditching the pace group but decided to be smart. I fell in behind the pacer lady and ran slow until I just couldn't any more. I found a void and passed her, moving ahead with another guy who was coming up from the back way too fast. I positioned myself with the 1:45 pacer group and decided to see how that felt.
I stayed with this group watching and observing. As soon as I'd learn who was around me it would shift. Someone would fall back and someone would pass us. There were a couple of guys in their 20s ahead of me side by side. I thought I was faster than them but I couldn't get a spot to pass. Then I noticed the old guy come up beside me. He had gray hair and looked like he was my age or older. He also started with the 1:52 pacer and now he was here. He was trying to beat me. I've learned to not be cocky but I was going to give this guy a run for his money. For miles we'd trade spots. He'd pass, then I'd pass. He was a spitter and that grossed me out. But he was also in shape and he wouldn't be easy to beat. Around mile 4 I decided to pass him again and this meant leaving the 1:45 pacer group. This was not smart but if you've read up to this point, it also shouldn't be surprising.
We were entering a less populated part of the course and because I left the pacers, I started checking my watch to see my pace. My goal was to keep my pace under 9 minutes per mile but so far I was staying below 8 minutes per mile. I was shocked to see this and I panicked a little. Was I going too fast? Did I make the worst, most rookie mistake? Was this old guy going to beat me? Would I burn out and not even finish?
Negative thoughts kill us. They keep us from doing our best and they often undermine us before we even begin a task. Running helps me to keep negative thoughts at bay. I get up and run 3.1 miles before most people are even awake and I know that I've accomplished something. If I can do that, I can do a lot more. I remembered Violet's text message. I was a badass. I felt good in spite of my fast pace and I needed to beat the spitting old guy. And even if I was going too fast, these fast miles would still help, right? I kept running the same pace. The miles ticked by and I kept my pace under 8 minutes. The old guy never caught me again. Well into the middle of the course now, I was running with an actual runner. This young lady was definitely an athlete. She was wearing a matching running kit and she had a belt with water and energy gels. She also had biceps. We traded spots for a few miles but mostly we ran side by side. It made me feel good to be keeping up with her. I laughed a little to think that she may not have had the same good feeling about running beside me. She navigated the water stations like a pro, calling out "water" or "gaterade" depending on her need. I would swerve away to not get splashed and I ignored the fact that I was sweating a lot and probably needed water.
Around mile 9 I felt a distinct change in my legs. It's like they both got 10 pounds heavier within two steps. I was getting tired. Fading. This was what I had been afraid would happen. I knew I needed to get the energy gel in me but I wanted water first. At the next water station I leaned in and yelled "water" before gracefully grabbing a cup. I don't know if you've ever tried to drink a cup of water while running and breathing heavily but it's not easy. I'm not joking when I say I almost drowned myself right there on the course. I managed to get a sip down my throat but I coughed and gagged for a couple of minutes after. It was mildly embarrassing and sort of funny. The athletic lady passed me during my near drowning. I took my time getting the energy gel down during mile 10. I was realizing I probably waited too long to have it. I felt a little better but the miles were getting to me mentally. I knew the course so I knew it was a long way to the finish line. I tried to be positive and I had to start saying all the positive things to myself to keep going. I knew I was slowing down because for the first time in several miles, people were coming up from behind and passing me.
I checked my watch and my pace was now just above 8 minutes. This hurt my positive thoughts. My legs were numb and heavy and I was having to think about picking my feet up and keeping my pace. I pushed a bit harder during mile 12 and almost got under 8 minutes again but I was definitely running out of gas. My competitive spirit was gone. People would pass me and I didn't even have the energy to call them names in my head. I kept thinking, "just keep moving, just keep moving".
There were some funny signs being held by nice people along the way. I can't overstate how important these things are to runners. People rang cowbells, shouted encouragement, and waved at runners they didn't know. I saw the usual signs about how you're not even close to the finish line, running like you stole something, or something about not pooping yourself. They were all mildly amusing. When I was struggling near the end I looked over and saw a white-haired lady holding a poster she made that simply said "Don't be a bitch". This was the one that got me through mile 13 with a smile.
The crowd thickened as we entered downtown Greenville. The cheers and excitement helped. I couldn't really feel anything physically or emotionally at this point. I had to finish strong and I just hoped I'd see a really good time on the clock as I crossed the finish line. There was an awkward hairpin turn right before the finish and as the finish line came into view, one last guy passed me. I didn't care how old he was at this point but I still wanted to beat him. We were just steps from the finish line and I did give every bit I had left but he beat me by a step. I didn't care. The clock was on 1:44 when I stepped across so I knew I had met my goal. I would have been elated if I hadn't thought I was going to die.
For the first time ever after a run, I thought I might get sick. We finished on the outdoor stage at the Peace Center in Greenville and after stopping my watch and grabbing a medal, I saw that I was now expected to walk down some stairs. Right in front of everyone. It was brutal. I grabbed a water and scanned for a banana. Oddly, the banana provider didn't show up so I was stuck with a tiny Moon Pie and a Nature Valley bar. I was dizzy and a little disoriented. I knew my family was supposed to meet me at the finish but I told them I'd likely finish around 1:50 so I was early. I thought I may have beat them there. When I gathered my wits I texted a funny message to the family chat and started walking around to cool off. I drank my water and soon the family appeared. They were early enough to see me finish and they were mad the announcer guy didn't call my name when I crossed. My mouth was too dry to eat the granola bar so the family walked to a store and grabbed me an orange juice and a banana.
I continued observing people at the finish line. Some of those people who appeared so unfit and un-athletic had beat me there. Some of the fast looking people finished behind me. All shapes and sizes of humans mingled with family at the end all so proud of this new accomplishment. I was amused by the people taking photos. Selfies are fun to watch but so are the posed family photos. There were a lot of dogs in the photos. Many of the people with good signs held the signs for the photos too. It was a fun scene. We stuck around until most people had finished and they gave the awards for the fastest finishers. The times were amazingly fast. These were people wearing Olympic Trials shirts. Some finished a good 45 minutes ahead of me.
I got the official chip time texted to me while we waited. It was 1:43, an amazing time for me. This was a 19 minute improvement over my first half marathon. I was 293rd out of 1,401. In my age group I was 11 of 58. I'm no Olympic Trial runner, but I'm pretty fast when I'm not sick!
I went out a little fast and ran about a minute faster per mile than I trained. I didn't drink enough water and didn't eat the energy gel soon enough. But...I didn't die, I had a great pace, and I met my goal. I was a badass.
The family drove me back to my car and we found a place to eat lunch. I had just downed a banana, an orange juice, two waters, and a granola bar. I tossed some BBQ down on top of that and then hobbled back to my car. Back home, I napped and then Violet and I slowly walked through the grocery store. Moving around was good for my aching hips. When we got home I ate again and planted myself on the couch for the rest of the night.
This morning it was raining and cold when I woke up. I dreaded it but I knew what I had to do. I got up slowly and put my running clothes on. I went out and ran the slowest 5K I've ran since having COVID. After the first mile my body loosened up and I started to feel glad that I was running. I've improved a bit throughout the day and while I feel pretty good, I'm not ready to sign up for my next race yet.
But Violet is talking about wanting to do a half marathon. And you know I'm going to be down for that.
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