It's taken me almost a full week to sit down to blog about it, but I completed my first official 5k run this past Saturday. Let's set the stage...
For the past month, our weather has been about 10 degrees above normal (like, in the 70's), and the absolutely beautiful spring sun has shone down on this lil' town. Perfect running weather for my taste. On the day of the "family fun run", the sounds of pouring rain and thunder served as my wake up call. High temperature: 58 degrees. Not the most motivating conditions-- and definitely not what I would label as "family fun." I seriously debated going back to bed.
But no.
My darling husband and his innate coaching mentality looked at me and said, "Suck it up." Oddly inspiring. My stubbornness wanted to smack him, but instead, I laced up my shoes and headed out the door.
The first mile was tolerable. The rain was cold, yes, but I had a jacket to keep me dry. So I thought. By the second mile, my North Face waterproof protection was failing. The rain was driving in my face, and I thought to myself, "I seriously PAID to do this!?!?" Misery. My iPod was getting soaked, my shoes were holding quarts of water, and I was running with kids.
At this point, I noticed the only adults near me were running to coach their elementary-aged children. Awesome buzz kill.
When I could see the finish line, I felt a new surge of energy. I decided to pretty much sprint the last couple of blocks (my "sprint" still isn't very fast...). I passed several ten-year-olds on the way, but I could see the finish line; I was determined to not be last.
I finally crossed that line and got out of the downpour to met up with my hubby who was there for moral support. My first question was "Am I last?"... no. "Am I the last grown-up?"... no. I achieved my goal. I finished a 5k, and I was NOT the last person to finish.
Now I'm struggling with this last question....
Can I be proud of myself for not finishing last if the only runners behind me were elementary school kids and their parents?
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