Running It All!!!

(Semi-)fresh off my inaugural 5k (the Freihofer’s Run for Women) a little over a week ago, I approached this morning’s Read Run 5k in Saratoga Springs with a healthy amount of cautious optimism. The weather when I woke up was practically identical to my wake-up weather for the Freihofer’s: humid, damp, cloudy and cool. Unlike the Freihofer’s, the weather never really warmed up and the sun never emerged; and that was all fine by me! Despite a near-constant drizzle, I was thankful for temperatures in the low 60s and thought it would bode well for today’s 5k goal: just to run the whole damn thing without having to slow to a walk.

The 2^nd Annual Read Run 5k was organized and conducted by Albany Running Exchange, and while it’s only about a tenth of the size of the Freihofer’s run, it was well organized and went off without a hitch. Well, except for the looooooong line for the ladies’ rest room in the Saratoga Springs Public Library about 20 minutes before race time. The valuable lesson I learned: yes, I really can run 3.1 miles without having to pee within 20 minutes of starting (or, as it curiously turned out, two hours after finishing).

I picked up my racing bib (#1496…alas, not a prime number) and timing chip, attached them to my shirt and shoe, respectively, went potty like a big girl and then headed back outside to warm up and stretch.

The RR5k didn’t draw a Senator or (from what I could tell) the Mayor, but the celebrity contingent wasn’t too shabby: Instead of Freddy Freihofer, we were treated to Clifford the Big Red Dog, Buggs Bunny and Daffy Duck. There was also a frog there from one of the local country music stations. I think his name was Froggy. Imagine that. <smirk>

As we were preparing to assemble at the start line, I met a young woman named Jennifer. She was nervous because this was her first 5k. Maybe I just look friendly (which I doubt, since when I’m “in the zone” I probably look rather pissed off…or just constipated), or perhaps people really are placed in our respective paths at various points in our lives because they can teach us something (or we can offer some insight to them), but Jennifer and I struck up a brief conversation. She already knew she couldn’t run all 5k, and I assured her that was fine. I asked her if she had any particular goal in mind; she said she wanted to finish in less than an hour. She headed toward the back of the starting group, the National Anthem was sung (if there was an announcement about that, no one in my area heard it, probably because there was a LOT of chatting going on…see why I wear my headphones?), and someone must have sounded a starting claxon, but even without my headphones in, I never heard it. I just started running when everyone else did.

We made our way down Putnam Street toward Congress Park, turning onto Spring Street to run along the park’s perimeter. Did I mention that the course ran uphill on Spring Street? From my Friday afternoon walking recon of the course, I estimated that the Spring Street hill was a similar incline to the Madison Avenue hill that opened the Freihofer’s, but the length of the hill was a bit shorter. For at least the first kilometer, I was being passed left and right—men, women, children, moms with jogging strollers, refugees from small Japanese fishing villages fleeing Godzilla—you name it, I was being passed by it. I was seriously waiting for some 90-year-old granny with a walker to sprint past me and call me a lardass. My breathing wasn’t right and I felt like I was slogging through semi-set Jell-O, but I just trotted on through it. I got a kick out of watching the kids run. They definitely help you maintain your sense of humor, since they’re all booster rocket—quick bursts of speed, delightfully inefficient running form (remember running just because it was fun to see how fast you could go?), then slowing to a walk within about 100 yards. Les jeunes lapins to my le tortue enflammé.

 

We passed the first distance marker somewhere along Nelson Avenue, I think, and I had no idea whether it indicated one kilometer or one mile. It honestly felt like I’d only run a kilometer (it wouldn’t be until we got to the “2” marker that I realized they were mile markers). I didn’t even notice the Saratoga Race Track backstretch to my left, but enough visits to the track over the years (plus my recon mission two days prior) reassured me of my location.

I hit a pretty decent cadence and found a runner just ahead of me whose pace was similar to mine. We would pass each other periodically, and near the two-mile mark on Vanderbilt Avenue, we introduced ourselves; Tina said she kept trying to “keep up with” me, I responded that she sent a good pace and that I’d been mirroring her pace since Nelson Avenue. We ran together, footsteps in matching cadence, for perhaps a couple hundred yards. There are little moments that happen in a race, whether it’s an encouraging word from a spectator, checking off landmarks (or other runners) as you pass, waving and saying thanks to the cops who are working traffic detail to keep some wayward automobile from making you one with the pavement, falling into a good cadence with another runner, or just making a brief connection with another human being who, like you, decided to run 3.1 miles on a Sunday morning instead of sleeping in and doing the Sunday crossword over bagels and orange juice. Those little moments are motivational, in addition to helping pass the time. This is especially important for someone like me, who has never hit that mindless “zoning out” that so many runners are fortunate enough to experience.

As we came around from Vanderbilt to Lincoln, I smiled as I crossed my fingers (since I was in no condition to hold my breath) for the one block we would run past the cemetery. Sure, it was silly, but it was another distraction that helped me keep moving. As we turned onto Regent Street, we had just under a mile to go. Having walked the course, I knew I could make it the rest of the way running. My confidence was building, especially since I knew that once we turned onto Caroline Street, I would pick up some momentum from my new running buddy, gravity. I headed downhill on Caroline and could see the final turn ahead. Rounding onto Putnam Street, I could see the ARE finish line banner. I was going to run the whole damn race. WIN!!! That’s when I saw the race clock: 36 and change. Holy crap, I was going to finish under :37. DOUBLE WIN!!!

Once I crossed the finish line, volunteers were at the ready, removing the timing chips from the runners’ shoes. I grabbed a bottle of water and a wedge of orange and headed back to the sidelines of the course to cheer on the runners who came after me. I looked for Jennifer and wondered how she did. Finally, I decided to walk down to the final corner and look up Caroline Street for her. After a few moments, I could see her, walking. I waved and called out, “You’re almost there, Jennifer!!! You’re doing it!!!” She smiled and as she drew closer, she said, “I’m making my goal: under an hour!” I walked alongside her for a few feet, then watched her jog the remaining block to the finish line. She finished just a few seconds over 47 minutes. I think I was prouder of her accomplishment than I was of my own.

After the race, I would meet people who finished somewhere between a “very disappointing :28” to a “decent sub-:30” to a “not-too-shabby :35.” Perhaps experience jades us a bit too much a bit too soon, but I was delighted to make my first-ever official PR, running the whole way. The average age of the female runners was 35½, nearly 12 years my junior. But my finish time of 36:50 was less than a minute slower than the overall female average, so I chalked that up to some kind of 5k Cougar victory. RAWR!!!

After the race and a final brief chat with Jennifer, I walked up to Mrs. London’s on Broadway for a celebratory pecan ring, then strolled down to Starbuck’s to enjoy my pecan ring with a chai.

Next up is the the Valley Cats Home Run 5k in Troy the final weekend of this month; I’ve set my goal at a sub-:36 finish. I have also found two more 5k’s to run, both in Saratoga, bringing my 2010 5k registration total to 13. Two down, just 11 to go.

I may not look even remotely like a runner, but as of today, I officially am a runner! SCORE!