Success isn't Permanent & Failure isn't Fatal: my 5k PR

I hate 5k's.  I hate them because when they're ending, I'm just beginning to get into a groove.  I'm rarely fast, out of the gate or otherwise, and truly have a fear of face-planting in the middle of an overly-aggressive pack sprinting across the start line, pointy elbows out to click "start" on our Garmins and maneuvering for placement.  In that regard, I find long-distance start lines to be extremely laid back and gradual. A long distance start is a flow where a 5k start is a great streak across the sky.  I've found myself much more comfortable in the process of getting across the start line when I don't have to think about the finish line for at least 5-10 miles.  And so it seems completely logical that I would sign up to do a 5k in the middle of February, along the water, with the wind slapping my face.

I put off thinking about the race for weeks.  I did not look at the race time, course or registration information.  I did not obsess over my race day attire.  I drank a bottle of champagne the night before.  I slept in the morning of.  I ate whatever I wanted.  I didn't hydrate well and took too much Advil.  I almost forgot to charge my watch and spent at least 30 minutes looking for gloves to wear.  I debated not going.

And then, with 3 hours until I was supposed to be in the car and my headache dissipating, I ate an appropriate pre-race meal and started nonchalantly flipping through my old running journals to find my previous PR for a 5k (22:38 - 2012 Philadelphia Bar Association Run). I was dressed in my good luck race clothes before I even realized it.  I was pacing, hydrating and lacing up.  I was breathing, stretching and re-focusing myself.  I had a goal.

At the race, the porta-potty lines were short, the wind not so bad, and the scenery familiar. My warm-up was long, straight out and back, and powerful.  I felt strong and capable as I moved among friends and strangers. Toward the start line, I walked in and out of lean running machines, smiling, and feeling like I'd come home just in time for the first race of the 2013 season.  

The race, itself, was a blur of wind and familiar faces, burning lungs, aching hamstrings and waves crashing in a river.  Hunched over, just past the Finish Line, trying not to fall prey to my churning stomach and aching lungs, I looked at my watch: unofficially 22:10 became official moments later. Celebrating with chicken broth and stretching out the soreness, I had another milestone to mark and save for another special occasion with the beautiful reminder that whether it's falling short or setting a PR, it's never all that you are.

Just take the hand that's offered

And hold on tight

This isn't everything you are

There's joy not far from here, right

I know there is

This isn't everything you are

(Snow Patrol)