My race – My own personal soap opera

Tania said sign up for a training race, a little 5 K to get used to the whole atmosphere, preparation and to get a feel for what it is like to run in a race environment.  So I headed off to do it yesterday, nervous and annoyed.  Nervous that I would absolutely fail in my quest to run it between 30 and 33 minutes, annoyed that I had a drive an hour and that my husband wanted to stay home to garden and not drive way into Halifax on a beautiful spring day.  However, since he is a great guy, he came because I was nervous.

We got there earlier then we needed and I saw all the people decked out in the great gear, expensive gear.  Thank God for Adidas, otherwise, I would have been in the running shoes I use to mow the lawn and a pair of sweat pants my in-law gave me for Christmas that came from Zellers. ( I love them and they are super comfortable but they don’t look like running pants) .  So, I looked the part of a runner due to Adidas.  Hurdle one overcome.

Tania said start about mid pack so I found the sign that said 25-30 minutes and looked for the pace bunny.  No pace bunny, only a guy in rubber boots holding the sign.  So I knew I was going to have to figure the pace out by myself and with my trusty digital timex that I had spent 20 minutes trying to figure out how to do splits, and turn on and off the stop watch.  It was crucial that I did not hit a wrong button because if I did, then the whole watch, including the time and date fades, and then it reboots itself and everything needs to be reset and would loose my split timing.  It was then I should have known I was screwed.

We start to run, and apparently I started in the wrong place because everyone, and I mean everyone was passing me.  Mothers running with their 6 year old, the 75 year old guy with some kind of curvature of the spine, the 50 year old in spandex.  They were bumping me and figuring out how to get around me.  Shocking, I looked like runner in the clothes yet I was apparently in the wrong place.  A little discouraged but I continued.

It was a nice flat course and the weather is beautiful.  The man with his daughter (about 8 years old) passes me and asks her if the pace is too fast.  She says no and they start to leave me behind.  Women with big bottoms, men with large bellies leave me behind.  Women with no body fat breeze past me, men with serious breathing problems pass me.  The announcer asks if there are people in the crowd with transplants (this is a Lung Association race) and a woman cheers and says lung transplant and runs past me.  You get the drift.

Then I see the leaders already coming back and I have not even seen the 1 k mark so that I can time my split.  I get to the 1 mile sign and am told 9.50 and it my split time.  Of course, I hit the wrong button and my watch clears.  I am a child of metric so 1 mile splits have not been what I have been working with.  I sink into the early stages of dispair.

I am on the return part of the course and everyone has passed me, it seems, except the walkers.  A mother in a strollers then goes by me and I am officially pissed off.  I am never running again, I thought.  This stupid make over contest will end,  and people will forget I even tried.  I remember I have been blogging about all this stuff and have passed out copies of the magazine and now I am really mad.  When I get really mad, I usually cry but I am breathing too hard and off course there is some 90 year old with one lung running in front of me (exaggeration for effect, remember east coast story teller liberties here) that I have to try and catch.  I SWEAR (really I did in the expletive sense) that I will never run again.  I hate iRUN, Adidas, Tania and everyone with a BMI less than 28 (hint mine is over 28).

I continue and we pass the 2 K marker and run by where the finish line will be.  I am not making any ground and my watch reads 12.30 am, and its really closer to 5.15pm, and my stop watch is not working and I have no splits.  My husband takes a picture as I run by and I refuse to look at him, and wished he had stayed home.  I am now completely in despair and wonder if I could just sneak into my car without anyone noticing.  Then I remember I have a timer thing on, and they race people would probably track me down.

I run, and funny thing is, I start to pass a few people.  There is an incline that some walk up (I don’t), then a decline and I pass people there.  I keep the pace with this woman who is obviously well trained, but probably 10 years older than me.    I pass a few more people, and my training seems to kick in.  I reach the 4 k location and I feel pretty tired, I have to say but try and keep pace with the woman in front of me and catch the younger one right in front of her.  I pass the one immediately in front and leave her behind.  I see the finish line and try and push to catch the one in front, but she leaves me behind.  I cross the line with little breath and one of the organizers asked me if I was Ok.  If I could I spoken I would asked him to call 911 because it looked like my time was around 28.50.  Shock and then disappointment sets in again.

Why didn’t I do it in 25 minutes.  I am so slow, what can’t I be faster.   My husband continues to snap photos and says some lovely things.  I am disappointed still but I don’t know my official time and convince myself that maybe I did it in 27 minutes and change (see previous blog about my delusional behavior).

In the end, I ran it in 28.42 and finished 22 out of 85 in my age class.  How can I still be disappointed?  I can be, and am, which is ridiculous.  Before I would have probably run that in 33-35.  However, its such an

average time. I am pleased with my improvement and thank Tania for her guidance but my body is not built for speed.  There is some acceptance of limitations that I think all people who are active must face.  I would like to know what mine are?

Yesterday, was one gigantic soap opera of my own making starring me and watched only by me.  I am not sure I can take my own drama as I do these races.  Its not the running that is tiring but the melodrama going on in my head.

Too bad a therapist was not part of the running team.