Probably Only Runners Will Care About This

"Are you still running that race next weekend?"  Mark asked me the weekend before Mother's Day.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?"  I replied.

"I haven't seen you run at all this week."

True.  I hadn't been out for a run since the last weekend, and when I did my "long run" of a mere 6.5 miles.  I remember when that used to be the weekday standard workout.  Those were the days.  I took this as a cue that I'd better lace up and forced myself to trudge through nine and a half.  It was raining.  Why, oh why, did I sign up for this?  Like New Coke or a Donovan McNabb Redskins jersey or french-rolled jeans...it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Race day arrived and five minutes before the gun went off I found myself staring at the starting line...in my car.  I planned to arrive an hour early, but Lucy, the big bad dog, was just so darn cuddly that morning that I couldn't get out of bed, and left 45 minutes later than I had intended.  So I put the pedal to the metal and 50 minutes before starting time I was just two and a half miles from the race.  I felt relieved--I really hate rushing around before a race, and now I would most definitely have enough time to get parked and settled.  Then, with the exit ramp in my sight, the traffic STOPPED.  Moving at a pace that rivals my grandma's, I eventually approached the crowd of runners, but still hadn't parked the car.  I was frustrated, but still not too anxious, because I thought surely all of these other people in this traffic would be late the begin the race, too.

Not so.   Apparently these people were all runners' chauffeurs, because I was the only one getting out of the car wearing a race number.  I hurried to the starting line and crossed just as the MC announced "One minute! The starting mat will be picked up in one minute!"

Phew, I made it across in time.  I looked around and I saw volunteers picking up cones and "no parking" signs from the road side and piling them into vehicles.  I was actually chasing the slow poke van that scoops up participants who cannot keep the minimum race pace (which happens to be 16 minute miles).  And then I had a terrible thought--what if the water aid stations would be packed up by the time I reached them?  The only thing that I was running with was the visor on my head and a shoe walletcontaining my car key on my laces.  I picked up the pace out of sheer panic.

I ran alone for the first mile before I encountered any other runners.  Well, they were walkers, actually.  It made me feel better that I wouldn't be lost and forgotten about.  By mile two, I was among quite a few other participants.  I relaxed and started to take it in.  The back of the pack is really quite enjoyable, I thought, so much more laid back and the intensity keyed way down.  I saw runners jogging against the flow, returning to check on slower-paced friends, before speeding ahead again.  I saw so many running the race in memory of a lost loved one, or in dedication to an friend or family member who was ill.  I saw costumed runners and I even saw a guy skip roping the entire race!  From their front porch, several dogs "cheered" on the runners.  Jogging for enjoyment rather than to "PR" allowed me to take in the scenery and enjoy the crowd--and especially read the posters.  My favorites included Don't stop, people are watching!  and Smile if you're not wearing underwear.  The most amusing was It's not sweat, it's liquid AWESOME! 


I finished the race in 2:02:29, which wayyyyyy exceeded my expectations.  Running sporadically and averaging 15 miles a week is not usually the way you want to prepare, so I was just hoping to finish in under 2:20.  By the end, I was pretty spent and just wanted to go home.  I headed towards the car, thinking about nothing but collapsing on to the couch when I got home.  Soon I realized that I didn't actually know where the car was, after all.  The race began and finished at a fairgrounds, and thousands of cars were parked in identical grassy fields.  I wandered on tired legs for nearly an hour, pressing the panic button on my key before finally hearing the car alarm call out to me "Here I am!"  


Checking this race off the to-do list, I returned home and naturally logged on to my favorite local race website---What's next?