Yesterday was the 3.2 mile or more socially called a 5k run. I arrived a little later than I meant to and didn't get to stretch the way I wanted to. The crowd of hundreds was already lined up and I tried to stretch a little. The stadium horn was blown and we were off. I started at a good pace, but I was at the back of the crowd. I was also there to support Mom so I stayed by her. This would be a good place to blame Mom for my later placement, but I think it has nothing to do with her, so the truth be told I was not very fast. The van that followed the race was 20 feet behind me and kept going dead because it was moving so slow. The route was in a mainly residential area with lots of hills, in the opposite direction I was going. As I passed the one mile water station the first group of runners came by. I was shamed by these runners, most of them younger, yes, but there were some older and some who looked in worse shape than me. The worst shame is to watch a friend of mine who gave birth to twins a few months before pushing those twins in a stroller and staying ahead of the main groups. Her time was 33 minutes with twins. I pushed to speed up. When we arrived at the half way point Mom had enough. I understand, this was tough and the heat had already gone to the 90's hotter with humidity. Mom is not a quitter but I could tell it was time for her to stop. Pulled out my phone and called my sister who was nearby to pick her up. I left Mom in a shaded area and headed up another hill by a college. Normally I noticed the beauty of this particular college, but at this point I was noticing the walkway was uneven thanks to roots and Yazoo clay. As I topped the hill my sister yelled out her car window checking on me. "I'm fine." I lied. I was ready to give up there. It was about this time I realized how far behind I was from anyone else and I had some flashbacks to sporting events as a child. None of the flashbacks were good or worth repeating. I waved her on her way. I wanted to finish the race but did not want the public humiliation of being last. As she drove off, I realized I had a long way to go.
I picked up my pace and saw the next water stand deserted, the people manning it had already gone. I was not waterless, I had been smart enough to carry a camelbak water pack. I drank a little as I passed the stand. As I was climbing the top of the hill, a van passed in the opposite direction and slammed on their breaks. "Are you in the race?" the people inside asked. " I held up my number 502 on my shirt to them. My legs were like lead and I was covered in sweat. The heat index was rising and I really was more concerned with the humiliation of being last. I was enjoying the scenery of the route, but I was hurting. To add insult to injury, the true runners were running the route again and lapping me. I heard them giggle as they went by. Finally I was about three blocks away and looked up as another leaner runner started heading my way. I realized as he got closer that it was a former theatre student who was an avid runner. He had heard that I was at the race and wanted to see me, so he found out I was still on the route and ran to come say hi. He kept me company as I came into sight of the finish line, we talked old times and he lightened the load. Another friend showed up and did the same thing, she was an encourager who had been working with me during the summer to lose some weight. I now had an entourage. I puffed up just a little as I came into sight of the finish line. I was going to turn the corner and go home if the cameras were aimed at me. I didn't want to be known as the last one, even if I was. However, no one was paying attention, most of them were with families and friends talking and laughing about their battle wounds. I crossed the line and their was no one there to take my card to give me time, I had to track down someone to register it and say I had completed it. What I thought was going to be a shout of laughter at my being last was a whisper of no one caring or noticing. My time...laugh, if you will, but it was a well earned time. 106.53. Sounds like a rock station. I will have that time forever embedded in my brain, along with the pain and sweat I endured that day.
Later people kept telling me, you will get better, why next years race if you keep up exercise this pain will be nothing...The thing is, I still don't see any sense in running without being chased. I will keep up the exercise, but I have no desire to participate in one of these events again. To each his own. My passion is elsewhere. To all of you who encouraged me...Thank you. I stand tall today, sore, but tall.
~curtain~
You didn't vomit. I would have made about ten minutes, and then I would have vomited.
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