5Ks bring a special kind of pain. Unlike the marathon, which feels easy until about mile 20, the 5K hurts at the start, in the middle and at the end. Badly. As a result, I am happy to announce that I survived the First Run 5K with only a little vomit (not my own), fleeting discomfort and a hissy fit that only lasted through my cool-down.
We had bizarre weather this weekend. New Year’s typically finds us firmly below zero, but highs on Saturday were close to 50, beautiful weather for a race. At the start, many of us remarked that we weren’t even slightly cold in tee shirts and shorts. Those in costume were almost definitely overheated. (My personal awards? The two-women bobsled teams, the Gingerbread Man and Spiderman, whom I suspect ran the entire race in character).
I am a terrible short distance runner, so didn’t have great expectations, especially coming off a stomach bug and fueled primarily by cookies and brie. I resigned myself to the simple goals of survival and a smart race and went 1 for 2.
I started way too fast, ticking off the first mile somewhere around 6:10, totally inappropriate for my current fitness. Per usual, I got distracted during the second mile and my pace dropped precipitously. Even other ponytails passing me failed to kick me into gear. I hit the second mile around 13:20. I did manage to collect myself in the third mile, finishing in 20:03. My prize for finishing? Vomit down the back of my legs, courtesy of the runner behind me, second worst chute experience ever.
Lessons learned? Don’t get pulled along in a hard start. Work more on turnover. Run more 5Ks so they hurt less and you finally figure out how to pace. Brie and cookies are not great running fuel.
Congrats to all 600 some runners who kicked off the New Year in style.