5K Race Day, Part Two

Read part one here.

While flipping through Luke's (most likely outdated) copy of The Everything Running Book, I was informed that I should set three goals for my 5K: one that was easily attainable, one that was difficult but realistic, and one that was significantly more challenging--more of a stretch goal. So I followed instructions like a good little runner and set three goals.

1. Easily attainable: Finish the 5K

2. Difficult but realistic: Run the entire time; no walking breaks

3. Significantly more challenging: Finish the race in under 35 minutes

The rationale behind setting these goals was threefold. First, seeing as I'm young and in good health, I couldn't think of a single reasonable excuse (aside from injury, of course) for not staying on course and (eventually) crossing the finish line. Second, while many runners take walking breaks during races, I believed that for the amount of training I'd completed in the last seven weeks, I was sufficiently prepared to maintain some semblance of a jogger's pace the whole time. Which, in the interest of keeping it real, probably comprises the bulk of my running experience. Third, I remembered Linda's account of her first 5K and reading that she finished her race in 34 minutes (and some change), and if she could do it, why not me? Never mind that she frequents the gym and works with a personal trainer and recently completed her first triathlon. Forget that I never averaged less than twelve minutes a mile in my training sessions. I figured the adrenaline rush I'd get on race day would be enough to bridge the gap between my average and my goal. Plus, I am woman, hear me roar and all that.

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The front runners take off immediately, and the middle of the pack follows suit. It is only a few seconds later that my feet start moving while my eyes scan the crowd for signs of Luke and the kids, my left hand clutching my iPod Shuffle, my index finger still fumbling with the buttons to activate my playlist. More seconds pass as I strain to hear the opening bars of Grover Washington's "Just the Two of Us" over the mass of people pounding the pavement around me, but nothing. I begin to panic. What if the battery is dead? What if I'm resigned to run the full three miles with nary a diddy to be heard? I've run without music before, but it's been several weeks and I'm worried that I won't be able to pace myself without it. I turn the volume up and hit the back button to the last song on my Shuffle, wondering if maybe the song's first few notes are too soft to pick up with all this noise. Sure enough, Rusted Root's "Martyr" pours into my ear drums as I simultaneously breathe a sigh of relief. I skip back to Grover Washington and allow the calm of the music to filter through my body, warning my feet to start slowly, friends, slowly, so that we may finish strong.

We start in the middle of the street adjacent to the outdoor track-and-field complex belonging to one of the local universities, and the course involves running uphill, crossing a bridge, and weaving through several downtown blocks, normally bustling but peacefully quiet on this weekend Saturday morning. As we break off into groups, the stronger runners picking up speed and the novices falling behind, I say a prayer of thanks for the trail that runs behind our subdivision and continues through several area parks; if I had trained on a treadmill, I'm convinced that the steepness of the hill and the uneven distribution of cement on the road would do a number on my ankles.

It's surprisingly difficult not to sprint ahead with the best of the runners. Here it is, race day, and I'm doing it! I'm running! This is easy! But I heed the voice inside my head reminding me that we haven't even finished half a mile, that three miles will be the longest I've run in my whole life, ever, and my pace isn't anything to write home about just yet. So I do my best to focus on the music, time my breathing, and avoid paying too much attention to those who are passing me by. A woman pushing a baby in a jogging stroller comes from behind and continues on with her bad-ass, super-momma self. Steady, Frema, steady. I'm eating the dust of a mother-effing WALKER, for crying out loud. Pay them no mind, Frema. Move along. The Indigo Girls' "Least Complicated" is on now. In training, this is the point where I would pick up the pace, aiming to reach a mile before the end of the song in order to clock a twelve-minute average.

And what do you know. Here comes mile one.

I check the face of my cell phone for the time. 9:12 a.m.

We've crossed the bridge, and there's a big sign, clearly marked, with several volunteers cheering us on. Encouraged, I pick up speed and continue on my way; a couple of minutes later, the opening bars to "Martyr," a song I love more for the beat than the lyrics, hits my iPod a second time. And I keep running.

We're weaving through side streets, running next to parked cars and pedestrians fiddling with their keys. I briefly wonder if any of them are runners who dropped out, but I decide it would have taken too much effort and planning for them to park their vehicles this far away from the starting line on the off chance they chose not to finish. I pass a water station and grab a little paper cup, allowing myself two small gulps and swallowing them with my next couple of inhales. When walking 5Ks, I've tsk-tsked the runners who threw their cups onto the ground, like, Didn't your mother teach you better?, but faced with the choice myself, the idea of running with a crumpled piece of tree in my hand isn't so appealing, so I toss it to the curb (That's what volunteers are for, right?), apologize to my mother for the blatant disregard of good manners, and keep on running.

I can't stop looking around me to measure my progress against the rest of the group. When I first approached the bridge, I remember gasping a little when I saw that the front runners were directly across the way. Now they are nowhere in sight; the crowd behind me is small. Not too far behind them are the walkers. There are runners walking, too. But I keep on running, downhill now, back towards the track-and-field complex.

Here comes mile two. The volunteers are happy to see me. I smile and wave, check the time. 9:24 a.m.

I can do this.

The closer we get to the complex, the more excited I get. I'm not running very fast, still keeping to the light jogging pace that saw me through ninety-eight percent of my training. Liz Phair is on now, a song from her self-titled album, and adds a little spring to my step. There's a grandmotherly-type woman sitting on the curb before I reach the complex, a young girl sitting beside her, and they both clap and cheer as I pass them. I see runners ahead of me pouring through the entrance and think the end is near. A few steps later, though, I realize the course is not ushering us in. Instead, it continues past the complex for several more blocks before winding around and directing us back to campus. My legs are heavy now, and my mind is tired at the idea of running away from the gate only to go back. But I keep on running.

I see one of our corporate officers, a seasoned runner and long-time triathlon enthusiast, securing a spot inside the complex. We lock eyes, smile, and wave. As I approach the cones that direct us to turn around, I find more of my coworkers; one ahead, a few behind. We're happy to see each other. We all keep running.

I'm running uphill again, and I've started searching again for Luke and the kids. I'm forcing myself not to slow down. I don't want to drag this out. I'm ready for this race to be over, but in this moment, I can't run any faster, and I can't walk now, not when I'm so close to achieving my goal.

But suddenly, amazingly, the gate is in front of me--surrounding me--behind me. I can see the finish line. As I sprint towards the huge digital clock fastened to the archway, I notice that we're in minute thirty-five. My boss and her husband are standing on the sidelines, and she's whooping it up for me, shouting "Go, Bree, go!" Rusted Root is on again deliberately, to give me one last extra push. The announcer declares that another employee from my company has just entered the track. That employee is me! I can't stop smiling.

And I run like hell.

My legs are flying, my arms are pumping, and I'm huffing and puffing my way to the arch until the clock is right above me. It's minute thirty-six now, and the seconds are flying away. I'm not sure at which point the electronic chip attached to my left shoe is officially registered, but it doesn't matter because now I'm on the other side, where runners are recycling their chips, eating bananas, and rehydrating with bottles of water.

Official time: 36:15:1, placing me 627 out of the 696 runners in my division (females aged 25 through 29).

Average pace: 11 minutes and 40 seconds per mile.

Boo-fucking-yeah.

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It wasn't until afterwards that I found Luke and the kids. He had trouble getting everyone out the door and didn't even reach campus until a couple of minutes after I finished the race. He felt terrible, but it worked out for the best because he didn't have to occupy them on his own for the thirty-six-plus minutes I was en route. We stuck around to watch my coworkers participate in the tug-of-war competition and walked around downtown for a bit before heading home.

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Because Liz asked, here's the playlist I used for the 5K. It's part-granny, part-Rocky, at least for me.

Frema's 5K Playlist

"Just the Two of Us" - Grover Washington (Reminds me to start slow and tortoise-like.)

"Say That You Love Me" - Fleetwood Mac (For some reason, the opening notes remind me of when Forrest Gump started his cross-country run. Yes, another Forrest Gump reference!)

"The Real World" - Matchbox 20 (I remember our VP/COO once saying that he ran to this song because it reminded him of college and made him feel young. I was a junior in high school when I bought the CD, so now it makes me feel young, too. Not that I'm old. Life begins at 30 29.)

"Least Complicated" - Indigo Girls (The music inspires a fierce, Rocky Balboa-ish attitude.)

"Martyr" - Rusted Root (Insert Rockygasm here.)

"American Girl" - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (Very suburbanite, I know.)

"Back and Forth" - Aaliyah (Brings me back to a more subdued pace so I can rest. From white bread to flava!)

"It's Sweet" - Liz Phair (To pump me up again; in training I tried "Jealousy," one of my favorite songs ever from her, but it was too fast and I couldn't focus.)

"Least Complicated" again (To inspire me near the end of the race)

"Martyr" again (For the win)

It's important to note that had iTunes not acted like a total douchebag the night before, the playlist would have included a few more songs just in case it took longer than anticipated to finish the race. "Rain King" by the Counting Crows, "Fighting for My Love" by Nil Lara (thank you, second season of Scrubs, for introducing me to that one), and JT's "SexyBack" were all denied access to my iPod, even though two of them were on there the week before. WTF, Apple?

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So, there it is. My first 5K, with two out of three goals realized and the third not entirely out of reach. Obviously, there's endless room for improvement, but overall I'm proud of my performance and look forward to improving it the next time around. Of course there will be a next time. How could there not? Have I been a runner all my life and just didn't know it? Or does it only fit my personality now that I have two more especially important reasons to stay fit? I don't know, but in the end, it doesn't matter how I got here. The important thing is I'm here now and ready (finally!) to challenge my body in ways that I never have before.

Luke and I will walk with the kids in the 5K associated with the Indianapolis Marathon and Mini-Marathon at Fort Harrison State Park two Saturdays from now. We will both run the 5K attached to the One America 500 Festival Mini-Marathon in May 2010. My goal is to complete the mini-marathon at Fort Harrison one year from now. Luke and I hope to participate in several more races before then, in addition to Chicago's Shamrock Shuffle, an 8K, in March.

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In the last few months, I've heard a lot of sad news. Babies passing away before they had a chance to celebrate a first or second birthday; celebrities dying too young; mothers falling victim to horrible diseases and then being tasked with saying good-bye to their families. Some of these people I never met, while others are casual acquaintances I know only on a surface-level basis. But I have cried tears over them, have closed the door to my office to hurt on their behalf. I imagine what it would feel like to know I would never see my children grow up, or, even more gut-wrenching, to live life without them, and my nose twitches and eyes well up and a rock forms in the pit of my stomach because I can't. I just can't. In religion, there's so much talk about emphasizing the mental and spiritual aspects of ourselves because our physical state is temporary that it can be easy to overlook the fact that God made us human for a reason; that having a living, breathing body is a gift we shouldn't take for granted. So I want to use mine better. I want to make it stronger, leaner, healthier. I want to laugh more with it, cry happy tears with it, tickle Kara until she squeals more often and snuggle Nathan close every time I find him attached to my leg or foot or shoulder. I want to make love with my husband even when there's an opportunity to get more sleep. But I want to get more sleep, too, so I can tackle daily challenges and opportunities with a fresh mind and heart.

In between writing this entry, I clicked through my blogroll and came across Emily's post about running in the Baltimore Half-Marathon this Saturday, and how running made her think of little Emily Mandell, who passed away six months ago from a rare form of cancer. What a coincidence, I thought, that the same activity inspired each of us with the same type of thought track. But maybe it's not a coincidence. Maybe it's just being grateful.

 

Comments

[AJU5's Mom]

Way to go1 I am not a runner due to bad knees, but I would love to get back into swimming once the kids are a little older (i.e. I can leave the house for an hour or so to go swim at least 3-4 times a week). And you are right that having one more day on earth is a blessing from God. It is hard to see others die, but it does show us that our days are numbered and we have to live them to the fullest.

[Cookie]

Congrats on completing your first 5K. I'm training for my first one in November, and would love to be able to get a time of 36 minutes. I've never been much of a runner, despite my Army training, so we'll see.

[Joanne]

Congratulations! That is a great account and is making me a little weepy. It was totally worth the wait!

[rkmama]

Bree, this is so, so awesome.
Congratulations on the race and, well, on life in general.

[Jen L.]

This is one of your best posts ever. EVER. I'm so proud of you!!! Your writing is just so much fun. I love your way of storytelling--it makes me feel like I was right there. Good for you for setting goals and sticking to them! What a great way to take back time for yourself.

[Dawn]

CONGRATULATIONS! You did fantastically. Also, you rock. Way to go, lady.

[eva]

Congratulations! I totally know what you mean about not being able to keep that smile off your face in the race. Way to go! It's also great that you have more coming up ...no chance to slack off;)

[Amy W]

Great job!!

Running is slightly addictive.

I am training for my first half marathon on November 8th...I am only hoping for that sort of pace for 13.1 miles.

[daddyd]

Good thinking before the race with your practice for the race. The event itself was managed very well. You did not go out too fast at the start. Your energy was paced through out the whole distance. You had a push at the end,but you did not leave and gas in the tank. It was used properly through out.
Thoughts about health are also right on.

[Liz]

Martyr is on my running playlist too! I'll have to check out some of the others.

[Katie]

Congratulations!!

[Parsing Nonsense]

It's probably just my pregnancy hormones, but this entry made me tear-up the whole way through. I'm so proud of you, way to go!

[Bill]

Holy cow, I can't believe I missed part two until now! FANTASTIC JOB! I love that you had to "apologize to my mother for the blatant disregard of good manners." I'll probably laugh at that for the rest of the day. Partially because I'm the same way. I try to hit the garbage can with my cups, but still. During my 10K I thanked one of the kids picking up cups, because dang there are a lot.

Anyway, great run...I'm so proud of you, shredhead!