Race Day

One year ago today, I ran my first 5K. Clear blue skies, the perfect race temperature, and a gentle breeze all combined to make my first race a gorgeous one.

Fast forward to today.

The temperature gauge in my car claimed a crisp 32 degrees when I pulled away from my house. The sky was grey, and there were definitely some ominous clouds on the horizon. As a bonus, the wind picked up nicely while I was waiting on my race buddy outside of the parking garage. When he arrived, he was horrified to realize that I had no hat. Or gloves. Because he's a gentleman, he argued with me the whole way to the starting line about borrowing his gloves, and because I am stubborn, I refused.

We parted ways at the line up, because we have vastly different racing strategies. He likes to start out in a pace group a little faster than his normal pace, because it motivates him to push himself harder. I like to start out with the walkers, because my top goal during any physical activity is "don't die."

So with Alanis blasting in my ear, I crossed the starting line at 4:17. The race course was the same as last year's, and I was determined not to let the hill in the first quarter mile intimidate me like it did last year. I even ran up most of it! After the first mile, the course doubles back on itself for most of the second mile, and it's awfully humbling to pass the half-mile mark while the top runners are already on their way back.

I wound up in a really great bunching this time around. For starters, there were no stroller runners around me, which greatly reduced my chances of getting run over by/tripping over a stroller. Secondly, there were a lot of first time runners, complete with awesome support teams. Friends running backwards to offer encouragement, husbands running sideways, and one amazing team just behind me encouraging their friend with "Come on! Two more miles AND WE GET SUNDAES!" I am fully behind the use of food as a motivating tool.

The first mile felt pretty good, even if I was colder than I have ever willingly been in my life. I managed a pretty respectable 14-minute pace, and found myself abandoning my usual "run for the chorus, walk for the verse" pacing plan. The second mile was a little boring--same route, less to look at, and my playlist threw "Adia" at me. A lovely song, but maybe not a great choice for a running mix. But I totally felt like a real, live, capital R Runner when I managed the water stop without stopping! (And I even hit the garbage can when I tossed my cup. I hate how much litter a race seems to generate.)

The last mile or so goes through downtown, so there were a lot more spectators than in the first two miles, and those spectators were amazing. Running high fives, shouting encouragement, ringing cowbells--a bunch of people got up early and stood out in the cold to cheer us on. And then it started to snow. Right about the time that I realized that the fuzzy stuff in the air was not me having a stroke, a really adorable four-year old rang a cowbell and said "Run fast! Run fast! Almost done!!" so I was too overwhelmed by cute to worry much about the fact that it was snowing.

That hill at the beginning of the race? The thing about hills is that going up them is draining. Going back down them? Terrifying. I fall down on flat ground for no reason. Throw in a hill, running, and slick ground, and I find myself in danger of violating that whole "don't die" goal in a big, dramatic way.  But at the bottom of the hill, we rounded a corner, and there it was. The finish line. Less than a quarter of a mile away. Just past the thee-mile marker, there was my running buddy. Craning his neck, looking for me.

Bless his heart, when he saw me waving like a crazy person, he ran up and fell into step beside me. Now I had my own little encouragement team. "Come on, Anne! Two hundred more yards! You're doing so good. Let's go! There's bananas at the end!" And I found myself running just a little bit faster than I would have if it was just me, because my buddy waited in the snow, and added another tenth of a mile to his own run for the day. No way was I letting him down!

My final chip time was 42:15, and I didn't die. GOALS MET!

And the post-run banana was almost as delicious as the post-run beer, which washed down the complimentary post-run cheesesteak nicely. Then we warmed up at Barnes and Noble, and met friends for a late breakfast. Like I said, I'm in full support of using food as a motivational tool, and I'm not above rewarding myself with bacon.

Do you have any race day strategies? What about post-run rewards?