About a month ago we joined the Dallas Running Club and registered for a 5 mile race. After running for just six weeks, and this being my first race, I wasn't sure what to expect from anyone...including myself.
I've built up my mileage slowly, and last Sunday I wanted to give the full 5 miles a trial run. Jonna didn't come; she's been pretty sick the last two weeks. So I drove out to White Rock Lake, fully expecting to finish hard and feel one of those personal, life-changing moments. I went out 2.5 miles and was pretty tired by the time I hit the turnaround. I walk/jogged the last half and finished in about 58 minutes.
I felt completely defeated.
Needless to say, I was determined to perform better on race day. I read up on running nutrition and (thanks mostly to the bodybugg food log) carefully tracked my calories and percentages of protein, fat, and carbs. I took it pretty easy during the week, doing a 4- and 3-mile run. I rested all of Friday and then...
We woke up at 6 this morning to prep for race day.
Of course...we didn't get up at 6.
Frantic mornings are worth it when you get a few extra minutes under the covers :) We threw on clothes, and barreling through the kitchen I thought, "Banana. Cereal. Water. iPod. Keys. Wallet. ... ... SHOES." And we were off.
Thankfully, there was no check-in line for pre-registrations. Jonna pinned on my bib, number 3838, and we headed towards the starting line. The race was handicapped with staggered start times based on age and gender. The first group was scheduled for an 8:00 start; the last group was supposed to take off at 8:30. Being a strapping young lad, I was in the alpha male group.
Excited and nervous now.
From the start, I settled in at the back with Larger Fellow. By "at the back" I mean we were the last two out of the 360+ runners. That's okay though. I had a plan. By the time I hit the first mile marker, Larger Fellow had to take a breather and I set my sights on Water Bottle Man. I paced myself behind him and didn't see anyone until the 2 mile mark. These were, however, people running towards me that had already hit the turnaround. Great.
Keep moving.
Another half mile up the road, I passed Water Bottle Man and reached the turnaround cone. Glorious. I didn't think there was anyone within a quarter mile of me in either direction. Then I saw him. And heard him. Surely, an angel. A volunteer's exuberant yelling and applause made sure I didn't keep running forward indefinitely. To his surprise, I jogged past the cone, and we stuck our arms up for a MASSIVE high five.
Halfway there.
I checked my watch and was about 27 minutes into the run. And I hadn't walked yet. I was on pace to finish in under 55 minutes, which was probably my only goal. I knew I would have to walk at some point. I found my groove on the way back, which was more of a gradual downhill, and actually passed a few people. I made it through 3.5 miles, and by the time I passed mile marker 4, I could see the finish line. That was it.
I picked up my pace for the next half mile and soon came around the last corner. I saw the finish line. I saw the clock. I saw my wife. I was less than a minute from the end, and in that moment realized that I was almost 5 miles into the beginning.
I crossed in about 50:20. The bibs were chipped, and we'll know my official time after it's posted. All that I know is that the time really doesn't matter. I ran as hard as I could. And I'm going to do it again. Crossing the finish line, I found that personal moment that escaped me a week ago.
Oh, and I never walked.
