As I signed up for the 17th annual ‘Fall Fun Run? last week as a fun story idea, my editor, Kyle, told me he’d run my column only if I won.
It’s a good thing I came in first place for my age division…
I decided to run in the 5K race in a last-minute decision before preregistration ended Sept. 22. The event sounded like a lot of fun and gave me an excuse to wake up early on a Sunday morning.
The last time I raced was three years ago at Michigan State. I did relatively well, not great, but had lots of fun. Why not do it again?
But the day before the race, I started to get nervous. What if I walked half of the course? What if I get tired? What if I forgot to set my alarm, forget to show up and not have anything to write my column on?
The pressure was intense and it only got worse when I woke up on Sunday. It didn’t help I had spent part of the evening before at a party and then watching new movies with my best friend. To clear my head and focus on the race I decided a bowl of cereal was in order. And of course, I walked downstairs to find I was out of rice milk for my wheatie puffs. I took this as a sign of things to come.
After a quick trip to Kroger, I was stocked with not only rice milk, but an ample box of Cinnamon Life. (Hey, sometimes you need a little more energy than wheatie puffs can provide for racing).
Per usual, I arrived to the race site just a few minutes before the event started. I had already forgotten my Walkman and wallet. I was positive I would be crawling the entire race. It’s just the way the morning had been going.
However, once I arrived and realized I’d be running to my own signing, I looked around and saw people of all ages ready for a beautiful morning of running. All of a sudden I didn’t feel so nervous and started thinking of songs to amuse myself with.
The course was a good mix of hills and flat terrain. I definitely got a workout and was pretty sure my time would reflect that. Then something strange happened: I started running somewhat well. For me, anyway.
‘Good job runners, time is 7:33,? the course timer said after the first mile.
What? My first mile time was just over seven minutes? Clearly this was wrong. I never time myself on the YMCA treadmill, but I’m positive it’s nowhere near seven minutes.
With that inspiration the race was on.
Things were going well until I hit the hill on Church. Good grief! I honestly thought my life might end right there. It was a good thing I was close to work, maybe someone would notice I was absent on Monday morning and come looking for me.
After a quick rest I was at it again. I decided to focus on a useful racing technique a friend of mine once told me: Pick a person ahead of you and try to pass them. Once you’ve passed that person, pick a new one until you finish.
And that’s what I did. All of a sudden I was heading toward Washington and about to finish.
Then another strange thing happened.
‘Good job, ladies. You’re the first women to cross the finish line,? a volunteer said.
What? I think I must have accidently joined a different race. Not only was my time doing well for a recreational runner, but I was apparently one of the first gals to finish. Clearly the planets were misaligned that morning.
Sure enough, I was one of the first women to finish. And my time wasn’t too shabby either. My official finish was 24:20. I was happy with that considering my last race time had been 28 minutes.
Ok, so I’m not captain of the cross country team. But I’m still pretty proud.
I have a handsome plaque to showcase my achievement and remind me of the fun you can have from local races. This race in Clarkston has made me look for other races this fall.
I also realized something else that Sunday morning: Cinnamon Life is quite possibly a miracle food. If I had consumed my normal bowl of wheatie puffs that morning, you might be reading a column about how I walked the whole race.
If you’ll excuse me, I need to go purchase a year’s supply. I have lots of big activities coming up in the next few weeks…