I had read in running magazines and running sites that signing up for a run would provide a goal, and an accountability. A run on the horizon would supposedly focus my training and keep me from slacking off.
Since I had made it past my initial "I must be batshit crazy thinking my fatass could be a runner" system shock, I figured a 5K was a doable distance. I could interval it (walk/run/walk) and go at my own snailish speed.
I did not have any expectations, but I would be lying if I said my ego did not demand some sort of goal. Keep in mind, my whole journey to becoming a runner started with a blow to my ego and a challenge. So I set an attainable goal, being that I had yet to reach 2 miles in my training... One hour. I wanted to finish the 5K in less than 60 minutes. I aimed for 59.
A lesser goal came to me on the day of the run as I stood among the crowd: "Don't be last." But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The night before my run, I was a live wire. I prepared my gear. I drank enough water to drown a fish. I went to bed early... And I tossed and turned and could not for the life of me, fall asleep. 5AM came quickly and I was exhausted.
I arrived at the run an hour before the start time. It was a chilly November morning, and I couldn't get warm. I paced. I visited the restroom and basically fretted the whole hour.
Why was I nervous? Well, as I mentioned before, the furthest I had managed to go in training was about 2 miles, and quite frankly, those 2 miles just about killed me.
What I hadn't mentioned before is that my training took place on rural trails by myself. I'd never run with anyone else around. Yes, vanity is indeed the name of the game. I knew I looked stupid when running, and now as the other runners were starting to show I realized I was a fraud. I wasn't a runner. I was a wannabe. I didn't deserve to be there. What the hell was I thinking?!
The runners were instructed to line up. I saw folks I knew lining up at the front. I hid. I lined up in the back, with the elderly and strollers. As I looked around I decided that it was too late to pull out, and if I was going to go down I might as well go down in a blaze. I was going to do everything I could to not come in last.
I didn't hear the start of the race. I know there must have been some kind of signal or announcement, but I wasn't aware of it. All I was aware of was the mass of people around me suddenly moving... So I moved with them.
I put my earplugs in, and turned on my iPod and decided to drown out the world and pretend I was alone on the trails. I walked one song, ran two. I kept up that without paying attention to time or distance. Before I knew it I was at the water station... Halfway mark!
As I began to pass people I started to feel like less of a fraud. I know I was passed more than I passed, but I didn't pay attention to those pulling ahead. I figured for every person I passed that was one less person I finished after. Even if I only finished in front of one person, that meant I wasn't last.
At some point my playlist started to speak to me. It was during U2's Elevation that I saw the 3 mile marker, and saw the turn into the finishing chute. I had .1 of a mile left, time to gun it and go out in that blaze. (Granted, I was already a slow runner, and I was exhausted so "gunning it" was more mental than physical.)
I crossed the finish line at 56 minutes.
It was under an hour.
I wasn't last.
I didn't collapse and die.
I was feeling pretty okay about it, and then it happened... a person I knew came out of no where and hugged me and congratulated me. Then another person told me I did a great job. Then a stranger came up to me and said they were behind me the whole way and was using my pacing and walk breaks to keep themselves going.
I was accepted.
I was welcomed.
I was encouraged.
I wasn't a fraud.
I was a runner.
The following week, I signed up for another three 5Ks.
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