5k Virgin No More

Wow. Where to begin?

I know this is a grossly overused word, but today was an absolutely AWESOME experience. Months of preparation, repeated (and often profound) moments of self-doubt, successes and failures (seemingly more of the latter than the former) in training, kvetching knees, legs, lungs, etc., all came down to just shy of 40 minutes of putting one foot in front of the other, quickly (well, quickly for ME) enough to be technically running, for five full kilometers. I really only had one major goal for today's Freihofer's Run for Women: to finish the race, having run the full distance. Well, I went the distance. And I ran the overwhelming majority of it. There were two occasions when I had to slow to a walk, each covering a distance of about 100-150 yards. I'll admit that having to slow to a walk felt like a partial defeat for me, but in training runs where this happened, I was often unable to resume running; today, I resumed running after both slow-downs, and I ran the final kilometer and a half or so.

The Freihofer's Run for Women is a huge race, one of the largest women's 5k races in the USA. Everything about this event was top notch and as smooth as silk. Every single volunteer was excellent: warm, welcoming, friendly, encouraging, supportive and knowledgeable. I didn't meet a single volunteer who failed to meet every single one of those criteria. I'm afraid the FR4W may have spoiled me. My next 5k is in eight days, a much smaller affair that I suspect may involve more (and steeper) hills, and which will probably be less well organized; that's OK, it'll help me practice that whole "patience" thing with which I constantly struggle.

My day began about an hour earlier than I'd expected. After tossing and turning a bit through a very muggy night (and the ceiling fan whirring away like the top rotor on an Apache helicopter at top speed), I woke to birdsong, rain and cooling wind at 5am. (Where was the rain last night when I was trying to fall asleep???) I went through some mental preparations while I lay in bed, checked e-mail, Facebook and CNN.com on my CrackBerry, and then finally got up around 6:15 to let Diva outside. Breakfast was a scrambled egg and half a cup of skim milk. I had a nanner stashed in my race day bag, to be consumed about an hour before race time. Of course, I also hydrated, as I'd been doing for days in preparation of this morning. Then I hit the shower and got dressed for MY FIRST 5K RUN!!! I had decided two crucial things the previous evening as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep: I would leave the house at 8am (to make sure I didn't have a stressful struggle with parking) and I would line up with the :37 estimated finishing time group, which I thought was a little ambitious, but what the hey.

The weather was the biggest question mark on the day. All of the weather forecasts for several days had been predicting rain and thunderstorms for race day. Yeah, right. Here's the deal: You don't need meteorology (sorry, Kathy!), you just need to know whether or not Joan puts on sunscreen: no sunscreen=sunny and warm. I have the pink shoulders to prove it. Oh, I also lost my running sunglasses on Friday, so that practically guaranteed sun, but I had my lucky green BoSox baseball cap to keep the sun out of my eyes. When I arrived, I got a primo parking space in the East garage (SCORE!). Before heading up to the Empire State Plaza, I stopped into the Cathedral across the street for a little pre-run bonding with the Big Guy in my parish church. Next stop: the South Concourse of the ESP. I skipped the Subway booth and the Success Rice booth (both of which were doing giveaways that involved wheels of fortune), and the health screening booth. (Seriously, what were they going to tell me that I don't already know? I need to lose weight. Film at eleven.) I discovered my pre-5k nirvana: An excellent massage therapist named Brady gave me an invigorating pre-race massage (also free...SCORE!) before she sent me on my way. She also reminded me that there would be free post-race massages, too. Who needs to run for cookies when you can run for the prospect of a post-race massage (and, of course, a Boston shake from the Tastee-Freez in Delmar)?

I headed outside to the plaza, meandering among the growing crowd of participants and spectators. The sun was just coming out from the clouds and the temperature was already creeping up. I just kept hydrating and reminded myself that I'd already trained a few times in worse heat and humidity. That didn't keep me from wondering how almost 4,000 other bodies in my immediate vicinity would affect the ambient temperature, but I just chalked that up to Stuff I Can't Control and told myself to suck it up. As I watched the competitors and their friends and families, I started to feel some rather intense emotion wash over me: Although I was meeting a couple of friends at the race, I didn't bring anyone with me. That meant I didn't have someone to hold my stuff for me or take care of Diva (which is why she had to stay home) and be there just for me. (Yeah, I know it sounds selfish. Tough.) I'll admit that I could feel some tears starting to well up. Even among all of these people, even with all of the support that I felt from friends all over the country, physically I felt alone.Running is a solitary activity.  In the end, no matter whom you run with or who cheers you from the (literal or virtual) sidelines, when you run, you run alone. Something about that kind of got to me. Add to that the sense of I really AM going to do this, and I had to take some deep breaths to control my emotions. See, I will cry for a number of reasons, including things like pride and anticipation, so for me, that particular physical manifestation of emotion can be downright inconvenient at times. So while most of the people there had their families, friends, running clubs, schools or whatever other social connections with them, I had my CrackBerry, which means I had my friends who have shared their encouragement and enthusiasm and support with me on Facebook and on my blog. So even though I was physically alone, I had all of those folks from the East Coast to the West Coast with me in spirit. That managed to keep me from crying, but I'll tell you: I was kvelling like you wouldn't believe.

As we lined up on Madison Avenue in groups based on our anticipated finish time, I slipped in among the :34-:37 group. I was concerned that some of the folks in my group might try to walk up the modest grade of Madison Avenue, the opening hill of the race, so as we edged closer to 10am, I crept up into the next group. (As it turned out, many of them also walked most of the first hill, so I was bobbing in and out of damn near every hole I could find so I could keep running. Note to self: next year, screw the anticipated-finish-time system and start with the :20 group.) We heard from various VIPs, including Mayor Jennings, Senator Schumer and Joan Benoit Samuelson (one of the few times you'll hear the words "Joan" and "fast" used in close proximity), who referred to the FR4W as an "accessible" distance; my friend, Kathleen, remarked that "accessible distance" was a very diplomatic way of putting it. I stashed my CrackBerry and turned on my iPod, adjusting the volume so I could just hear it, but without impeding my ability to hear another runner coming up behind or beside me. I did some gentle side lunges, a little hopping, some jogging in place and a last bout of light stretching as I waited for the start signal.

At 10am, 3,927 runners began their individual five-kilometer journeys as waves of huddled masses. It was a staggered start, with about a 10-second delay between groups (another reason for me to screw the anticipated-finish-time system). Kenyan Emily Chebet would eventually win the 32nd FR4W in an unbelievable 15:12, a new record for both her and the FR4W. I was, shall we say, a very healthy distance behind her.

Starting up Madison Avenue hill, I found my holes in the crowd and was able to jog up the hill at a slow but steady pace, gradually feeling increasingly energized. As I approached the start line and the VIP stand, I shouted to the Freihofer's bunny, "FREDDYYYYYYY!!!" and felt the energy actually building as I ran. Kathleen was ahead of me already by a few yards, so I just kept her in my sights. As we ran along Madison to Lark Street, I could still see Kathleen (the fact that she's so darned tall certainly helped) and wondered if she would be overcome with temptation and pop into the Dunkin Donuts on the corner for a quick sugar fix. We had joked about that the previous evening as we walked the course after dinner at El Loco. Although the cheering crowds became more and more sparse as we went up Madison toward the park, I was simply grateful that people would stand on the sidewalk to cheer a bunch of runners in a 5k; I'm sure many of the spectators didn't know anyone in the race.

We entered Washington Park and I still felt strong and steady. It seemed like we got to the 1k mark in no time. As we came over the top of a modest hill, I enjoyed the momentary increase in velocity on the downside of the hill, where a spectator (one of many along the route) was ringing a cowbell. I couldn't resist shouting, "MORE COWBELL!!!" And of course, he obliged. Thanks, dude! That carried me to the Lakehouse, which was the 1mi mark and the first water stop. Not wanting to slow to a walk, I ran past the walkers to one of the later water tables and grabbed a quick cup of water. I took in a mouthful and tossed the rest to the ground. Running along the spent-cup-covered asphalt sounded like the clopping of horse hooves, reminiscent of "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" ("You've got two empty 'alves of coconut, an' you're bangin' 'em together!"); that silly thought got me to at least the 2k mark (despite my concerns about whether the water cups were made from recycled paper). The sun was just beating down on us mercilessly all through the park. Of all the times I'd been in Washington Park, I'd never noticed that the roadway was so lacking in shade. We ran around the side of the lake and out onto Lake Avenue, which comprised another moderate hill. I was passing people on the hill and found that most of my renewed energy didn't just come from the spectators along the route; it came equally from shouting back to them, "Thank you!" I gave a thumbs up to the course guides as we passed, waved back at little kids along the route, and found that it helped me relax and just run.

Across from the UAlbany campus on Western Avenue, I started to lose my momentum. I took a brief inventory: legs were fine, breathing was fine, heart rate elevated (of course!), but I just felt like I couldn't keep running. Even my mantra ("strong legs...strong lungs...strong heart...strong will...I will...I can...I am!") didn't enable me to keep running. I really didn't want to slow to a walk. I wanted to run the whole damn thing. But I just couldn't keep running. I slowed to a walk and, since we were almost to the 2mi mark, I told myself I would start running again then. Another quick water station helped me get back to a run, and I kept running back into Washington Park. I had to slow to a walk again inside the park, but again I gave myself a landmark by which I would resume running, and I did, with about a kilometer and half to go.

When we emerged from the park a second time and were back on Madison Avenue, Kathleen and I had caught back up (we had passed each other a couple of times along the way). We ran pretty much side-by-side from the park entrance almost to the finish line. As we approached Lark Street, I just kept saying to myself (well, I was saying it aloud, but I was the intended audience), "It's all downhill from here." Once we got to Swan Street, I could see the finish line. People all along both sides of the homestretch were cheering, encouraging, reassuring us that we were almost there. I felt the positive influence of gravity propelling me toward the finish line, but I was actually looking beyond the finish line: the Albany Fire Department's Engine #5 was spraying a shower of water over Madison Avenue, just before Eagle Street. That was my Promised Land, baby! As I approached the finish line, I could see the time above the gate: 39 minutes and change. I was going to finish my first 5k in under 40 minutes! As I crossed the finish line, I raised my arms and shouted, "WOOOOOOO!!!" Then I high-fived Senator Schumer, gratefully accepted a bottle of water from one of the many rockin' FR4W volunteers and made a beeline for the fire hose, expressing my profound gratitude to the firefighter sitting on the bumper.

I updated my Facebook status with my estimated finishing time and, as I caught up with a couple of friends to discuss the race, my CrackBerry repeatedly buzzed as well wishes streamed in from my FB friends. I tried to dry off in the sun a bit and then went into the Cathedral for a little  prayer of thanks and a break from the sun. Then I headed back to the Plaza for a hot dog and some orange juice (gotta love free grub!) and then back into the South Concourse for my post-run massage. Debra did a wonderful job with my fire hose soaked body. I actually felt invigorated after the race, and even more so after the massage. I was very tired, yes, but not of the let-me-lie-down-on-the-sidewalk-and-die-right-now variety. I was freakin' excited and eager to enjoy the whole FR4W experience again next year.

I am thankful for so many things: first and foremost, the simple ability to run the race. If I had a dollar for every time in the last five months when my inner dialogue asked what the hell would ever make this overweight, non-athletic, nearly 47-year-old woman even think that she could run a 5k, I would have enough money to enjoy a fine gourmet meal in the world's swankiest restaurant. I am thankful for leather car upholstery, particularly in light of my public shower. I am particularly thankful for every single person who cheered us on, whether along the race route, via Facebook, or simply in spirit. Even before I crossed the finish line, I remember thinking, "I am so doing this again next year! Only faster and running the whole way!")

Emily Chebet took home $10,000 and the Freihofer's course record for her astonishing effort. Not too shabby. My reward? I went to the Tastee-Freez and had a Boston shake to celebrate my first 5k; I suspect Ms. Chebet might be envying me just a wee bit. Can you honestly blame her?