One Down, Four to Go

30 Before 30:
• Complete 5 races (1/5)

I felt that we were adequately prepared for this weekend’s race. Compared to previous attempts, I was. I even went to Lazzaroli Pasta on Friday and picked up some kamut pasta for our pre-race dinner. Early to bed and to rise. But, by the time we got to the park, Stephen’s allergies had flared up badly enough that he decided to sit the race out.

I met up with our friend Kevin and we shivered in the corral, making self-deprecating jokes about running the 5K while all the “serious” runners were still warming up for the 15K. Then the gunshot went off, he said, “See you at the finish,” and that was it.

Yeah, while they are awesome for burning a ton of calories and improving cardio fitness, apparently ellipticals don’t work your quads enough or build impact resistance. So my rule of keeping my heart rate in a certain range meant I ran in approximately eighth-mile bursts.

It was sometime while the course was still hugging the river – maybe at the first half-mile mark? – that I realized I was going to be among the last people to finish. Of course there weren’t going to be the normal gabby middle-aged biddies and hula hoopers and women walking leisurely behind jogging strollers. Who wants to be the slowpoke in a 5K running concurrently with the 15K?

Apparently me!

So I enjoyed the scenery of the greenway. I focused on my breath and the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement. I said hello to and bantered with the course volunteers.

I wasn’t passed by any of the 15K runners, whose starting time was 15 minutes behind ours. (The winners did finish that race in the same time it took me to run a third of the distance, though.) I was met at the finish line by a clock showing my second-worst 5K time ever and by a very patient Kevin, who had finished his second race ever in under thirty minutes.

Which meant he’d been waiting for me for almost that long.

I thought the victory out of yesterday’s race was that I was able to walk away not having puked or hurt myself. I wasn’t even that sweaty, thanks to a crisp October morning and the occasional breeze. And then! While Stephen and I were at a preseason hockey game last night, I noticed that climbing the stairs to our seats hurt. And then standing up every time someone on our row wanted to go buy an $8 beer hurt. And then descending the stairs to the street level hurt. By bedtime, there was no such thing as sitting gracefully; there was standing and then there was falling backward.

We went to some friends’ house to watch the Titans game this afternoon, and I’m pretty sure my frankenwalk frightened their giant Pyrenees/Lab mix.

At this point, I was quite leery of attending my Sunday yoga class. Pretty much the only reason I went was because I hate wasting money. But much to my surprise, it ended up being the first yoga class where I didn’t sit anything out in child’s pose. The poses were sequenced perfectly and all the tightness in my legs melted away. I kept up and I walked out without limping.

Now to work out a game plan to improve before next weekend’s race …