The 5K: 22:33

Last Saturday I woke up and for an instant it was 1997, I was in high school and terrified of the track meet that would take place at 3PM that day about 100 yards from the beach.  14 years ago, running was both my passion and my biggest fear; it raised me up and broke me down; it bent me over a trashcan before my events and leaned me forward across a finish line minutes later.  Simply, it was then, as it is today, my north and my monster in the closet.

Last Saturday I made myself a light breakfast, pulled on my shoes, geared up my watch, adjusted my headband and got into a car with my husband and one of our best friends, 5k-bound.  15 minutes into the drive, they were chatting and I was focused on not puking.  30 minutes later I took a solitary run around the grounds before the 5k - a beautiful morning could not take the edge off the butterfly wings in my stomach.  This is why I hate 5k's:  this is too much like a race.  So much so that I could smell the rubber of my high school track when I closed my eyes; I could hear my coach's voice screaming for another 800; I could feel the girl in front of me pull away and I could see the dropped baton.

Last Saturday, after a pep talk in a park bathroom, I sized up the crowd and took a spot at the front of the pack figuring if I was going to do this thing, I may as well go balls out about it.  22:33 minutes later I crossed the finish line with a new personal best, continued hatred for this race and lucky #6 written on my race bib.

Last Saturday, Mile one was too fast at a solid 6:15 pace.  The next half mile was slower but steady and not so painful.  Mile 1.75-2.25 was rough.  I slowed to a 7:20(ish) pace and found myself gasping but I would not let myself slow enough correct my breathing.  Finally at 2.75miles, I came up a hill, slowly, saw the finish line and the tiny crowd waiting there, whispered "boom" to myself and turned on the gas.  Chills and chest tightening adrenalin threw me across the finish and onto the ground just beyond it.  I left everything on that trail and my legs carried me through when my mind went off the reservation.   Up hills, down crooked paths, past my husband in the end and across the finish line behind 5 other runners - my legs pushed me when my mind wasn't so sure.  And that made all the difference