Once I decided to commit myself to the sport of running, (and please believe me, it was not a decision that I came to easily), I was informed that a proper running shoe was in order. Knowing that not ever foot is created equal, it is important to have the proper fit. A local sports store is the perfect place to get that shoe. Fleet Feet Sports store is a specialty store that can help anyone and everyone decided what is best for their individual needs.
Let me state for the record, I am not affiliated, nor do I have any vested interest in Fleet Feet. I just believe in telling others when I have “discovered” something or somewhere that I like. My daughter, whom had taken up the sport, had heard about this place from friends and touted its benefits. So I agreed to make the trek with her to check it out even though it wasn’t exactly close to us. Always up for an adventure we headed over the mountain to Jones Valley in Huntsville. It was a surprisingly small store in a new strip mall location among the scenic vista that is Jones Valley.
Once inside, the staff was super friendly and helpful. Bustling with customers trying on shoes and checking out sports apparel, we blended in to see what all the fuss was about. It was on this first visit that we met a sales clerk named Matt. Little did we know that Matt would become our go-to guy all future questions about shoes and local races.
I am convinced that Matt has a photographic memory because he remembers everyone and everything. He remembers the shoes we wear and the socks we bought. The races we’ve run and the times we’ve been there. No matter what the time span is between visits! He is amazing. Friendly, helpful and smart all rolled into one package. A shoppers dream!
The first thing he did was have us run/walk a short distance on a treadmill in the shoe area. He was able to record our feet as we took steps to check for our foot stride and strike patterns. This helped him determine any special needs that we had when choosing the proper running shoes. Of course he questioned us about our goals and distances, etc to determine first what type of shoe we needed; ie: running, tennis, walking, cross training, etc.
After trying on several pairs of shoes and getting encouragement from the sales staff there, we selected our shoes. I chose a pair of Nike Structure and she chose a pair of Brooks Glycerin. We both have been satisfied with these selections, though at this time after logging many miles I have found that my Structures are beginning to fray in areas and it is time for a new pair. I have been getting shin splints recently and think I need more support in my shoes.
My daughter has logged many more miles than I have and she is about to buy a new pair of shoes as well. As her shoe has aged (100 miles +) she is complaining that they no longer give her the support she needs. One other complaint that she had with this shoe is since she has been blessed with long toes, she has too much space in the front of the shoe. An orthotic support has helped this problem but she feels its time for a new shoe.
Fleet Feet carries over ten major brands of footwear. We have found running apparel in the newest styles that we haven’t found anywhere else. The prices are reasonable and sometimes less than other places (and sometimes more). They don’t have a huge inventory, but it is ample. They also carry all types of running accessories from watches to sunglasses to GU supplements to monitors. They also carry swimwear items and accessories as well.
What is so neat is that if you can’t find what you want there, there is a Dicks Sporting Goods next door.
On April 3rd the Lynchburg Oak Barrel Half Marathon was run. The course started on the Lynchburg square and went through the beautiful countryside of Moore County Tennessee. The run finished at the Jack Daniels Visitor Center where Jack Daniels hosted the post race festivities.
While I didn’t personally run this event, my daughter and some friends did. For some of them it was their first half marathon. For those who don’t know what a half marathon is let me explain. It is running for 13.1 miles! A marathon is twice that far. I struggle to run 3.1 miles so running thirteen miles is a bit overwhelming to think about.
A couple of days before the race, we drove up to Lynchburg to pick up the race packet and check out the course. But before we arrived in Lynchburg, we decided to make a few stops along the way.
A quick trip to Fleet Feet Sports store in Jones Valley area of Huntsville, Alabama to look for some athletic gear was first on the agenda. Because you know it’s all about how you look when you are running for us gals. The better you look-the faster you run…This is a scientific fact. This is also a very valuable lesson for all you new runners out there, so file that in your must have file…
For those of you not familiar with Fleet Feet Sports store, we’ll let me tell you, these guys and gals are awesome. See my blog about my experience with them. They will put you in the right shoe to help you be the best “athlete” you can be.
Then it was back over the mountain for some retail therapy at the Parkway Mall in south Huntsville. We still had some additional shopping to do. My daughter had an Easter event to go to that weekend and “needed” a new dress. Never mind that her closet is overflowing with clothes.
Of course by then it was lunch time and a stop at Panera Bread was a must. A chicken Caesar sandwich and some black bean soup. Yummy! We dined on the patio in the warmth of a spring sun. It was heavenly.
Finally we were ready to make our way through the hills to Lynchburg. The weather was nice and pleasant and the drive enjoyable. Beautiful country vistas along the way once we were able to make our way out of the crowded streets of Huntsville. You are just kind of driving along and then you come upon this quaint little town that has a town square filled with neat shops. Old southern homes surround the area and everything is centered around the Jack Daniels Distillery industry. It is very clean and well maintained area with some really nice and friendly people.
While the town itself sits on a flat area, it is surrounded by some rather steep hills and somewhat mountainous roads. As we were driving in we were getting antsy about seeing where the course route was going to take us. As soon as we arrived in town we stopped at the Jack Daniels Distillery to pick up the race packet. The crowds were already pouring in by then and it was still two days until the race.
The organizers had the pickup booth set up on the porch of the Distillery and things went very smoothly. They were very helpful and answered all of our questions. The shirt was neat and there were lots of goodies in the race packet. Most importantly, the course map was in there and we were able to plan the drive to see the elevations.
The course itself was not too horrible. But there were some steep hills along the way, with one in particular that looked very daunting. Nicknamed whiskey hill it was a major switchback that pretty much had everyone walking it. It was definitely the hill that separated the pros from the newbies.
After driving the course, my daughter had some time to mull it all over. At least then she knew what she was facing. Luckily we had been training on some hills that were comparable and felt it was a doable course.
The morning of the race it was drizzling rain as we drove through the 4 AM dark roads. Having taken a different route there, I had to drive through some winding unfamiliar roads in the fog. Once we arrived safely, thank goodness, the crowds were gathering and we were super lucky to get a prime parking spot in the area designated just off the town square. The rain went from drizzly to hard rain while we waited for the race start.
The tension and excitement in the area was palpable. Nerves were on edge and everyone seemed ready for the start. There were almost 700 runners ready to race the streets of Lynchburg. As I waited on the sidewalk out of the rain, I envied those out there in the rain. I wanted to be a part of it but knew I wasn’t ready.
Once the race started, they were off into the rain and over the hills, through the valleys and back to the Jack Daniels Distillery for the finish. As the race had progressed, the rain had become torrential at times but no one seemed to mind. It actually cooled things off. The biggest complaint that I heard was that it made their shoes feel like weights on their feet as they ran.
When it was all over, the first runner, a 33 year old man from Georgia, had completed the course at a time of 1:17:00. Six hundred and eight four racers later, a 46 year old man from Nashville had finished the race with a time of 3:49:38. There were young people to old people and everything in between people running. There were marriage proposals and breakups. There were people running together as teams and individuals running to represent struggles overcome. There were cancer survivors and handicapped runners. There were those running for the first time and those running their hundredth run. It was an awe inspiring event. They all came together to achieve some inner goal and accomplishment all the while cheering on their fellow runner until the last man crossed the finish line. I love this atmosphere!
The medals received at the finish line were heavy and impressive. Just like the feeling in the hearts of every runner who had entered that last leg of the race to the cheering crowds and crossed that line at the finish….
As Spring has approached, the days have gotten longer and warmer. Lately though it seems every weekend has been filled with rain and storms. Yes, I realize that is the ultimate “definition” of spring time. But it still aggravates when we are planning some outdoor activities. So today’s blog will be about brighter days ahead.
When I see natures’ beauty I feel compelled to capture it for posterity. When visiting the Botanical Gardens recently we were able to capture some truly beautiful nature shots.
I believe that the real sign that it is truly springtime is by observing the animals that live so closely to the subtle changes that occur way earlier than we humans can feel or see.
Seeing the sheer exuberance that our horses flaunt as they thunder through the fields as the new grass sprouts up from winter worn fields makes me smile.
Watching the mothers tend their babies as they explore their new surroundings is priceless and evokes memories of my own “babies” first steps.
The new baby chicks that are so cuddly and soft can still make me act like a kid.
Even the wildlife that have emerged have their sights set on new beginnings.
We are so blessed to experience Mother Nature’s bounty.
So as we wait for the stable days ahead, let us relish this time of the renewal of spirit.
Soon we will be enjoying the lazy, hazy days of summer.
As childhoods go, mine wasn’t what I would call always idyllic. But the brightest spot in my life at that time were my grandparents. I was very fortunate to live literally only a stone’s throw from them. So I would spend many hours at their modest home.
Living in the country afforded me opportunities to commune with nature and learn to love all things farm-like; whether that be animal, vegetable or mineral. I grew up with assorted varieties of chickens, turkey, guinea fowl and even a few neighboring peacocks. There was always a plethora of dogs and cats. Any number of interesting wildlife creatures could be encountered from opossums, fox, squirrel, skunks and the other usual suspects. We had cows, goats, and to our greatest joy, a Shetland pony named Scout aka Skalt. As with all my subsequent pets, Scout had a little story of how he came to be a part of our lives.
My dear grandmother would often lay a sheet over her unfolded laundry on the bed to keep it clean until she got time to fold it. With four rambunctious grandchildren ranging from ages five to eleven crawling over everything, it would seem a necessary chore. As the youngest at the time, I was probably the peskiest. I had an older sister and two older brothers.
I was about five years old and I can remember coming into my grandparent’s house one morning as was usual looking for something sweet to eat. Grandmother was cleaning up in the kitchen and I was left to my own devices of “rambling”. I can remember going into the back bedroom and seeing the sheet covering what I thought was laundry on the bed. But this time the sheet was lumpier than usual. It looked and felt like it was covering shoes. Knowing how grandmother never allowed shoes on her bed, naturally I was fascinated and had to investigate even more.
Slowly I lifted the sheet and saw some weird leather and wood protrusion. I didn’t understand. So I lifted the rest of the sheet and saw what I would later come to know as a saddle. Mind you, at the age of five I had never seen a saddle before. Even to this day I can remember that intoxicating earthy aroma of horse and leather.
Immediately I ran into the kitchen to demand answers. Grandmother was somewhat peeved at me because the saddle was supposed to be a surprise for later. Still not grasping the implications of what a saddle meant, I was excited, but didn’t really know why. Grandmother just smiled and explained. I listened mesmerized as my grandmother told of how our sweet Granddad had secretly bought a pony for us four grandchildren. However I wasn’t supposed to know yet and couldn’t tell the others.
Now in the mind of a five year old (and plenty of fifty years olds as well I suspect), this was a secret of huge proportions. A secret much, much too juicy to keep quiet about. So Grandmother decided to keep me close until Granddad got home so I wouldn’t have the opportunity to spill the beans and ruin the surprise for the others.
When Granddad did finally get home after what seemed like an eternity, they called us all together. He uncovered the saddle for the others to see and their faces were stunned shock at first and then astonished joy. I looked like the Cheshire Cat straight out of Alice in Wonderland because for the first time I actually knew something before my older siblings.
Then he took us up to the barn on the hill for us to see our new addition to menagerie already there. In a small stall stood the most beautiful creature imaginable. A magical mythical unicorn couldn’t have elicited more love from me than that magnificent pony that stood before us. Black and white and small in stature, he looked at me (because at that moment in my mind, it was just the two of us) instantly bonding and foreseeing a future filled with exciting adventures together. I am sure that my siblings had their own similar imaginations and memories as well. Little did I know that while the future was full of adventures together, most were centered on how the heck Scout was going to get us off his back the fastest way possible…
The next months on old Scout were probably the most miserable that poor pony would ever experience in his life. All he wanted to do was live his life in peace nibbling on grass and some occasional hay flake. All we ever wanted to do was ride, ride, ride. Often all four of us would climb on his back at once. It was no wonder that every tree, bush, low limb, or tree would be his best friend; it was a certainty that we weren’t. If nothing could be found to “rub” us off, then ole Scout would just lie down and proceed to roll over us if we weren’t fast enough to move out of the way.
I harbor no ill will or hard feelings toward this old friend. He had to be miserable and probably hurting most of the time. But he gave us so much joy even when we were in harm’s way and just didn’t know it. The memories of running through the fields trying to catch him as he ran from us; the fun of playing “dodge the hoofs” as he tried to kick us into submission. His favorites had to be “roll the kids” or “bite the arm” because he was a master both. Oh the joys we had. The oblivious danger….
Eventually Grandmother lost patience and Granddad had to give him away. By then we were older and had become savvier at maneuvering old Scout. But I still find it highly amusing that the final straw wasn’t that Scout had nearly killed every one of her grandchildren, but rather it was the fact that while attempting to dismount one of us, he killed her favorite flowering shrub. I still chuckle over that one to this day. The image of her taking a switch and flogging that impervious and impertinent pony with a fury that was rarely seen in my grandmother was priceless and not one that I would have ever wanted to experience for myself.
Another memory that will always stay with me is of when Scout decided to follow the goat up the loading shoot of the barn and upward to the roof of the barn. I won't ever forget waking up to the sight of one spotted Shetland pony standing beside a white goat on top of the barn. He stayed there for 2 days before he figured out how to get down...
While we probably suffered equally with Scout the indignities of owning a equestrian pal without the proper knowledge of just what that entailed, it set the stage for a future that I hope will always include hoofed compadres.
The lessons learned from that ill fated adventure were brought full circle when as an adult I was able to buy our first horse for my then thirteen year old “horse crazy” daughter. Perhaps subconsciously I had fostered that love with my own fond memories of Scout. I had pestered my husband for years that I wanted a horse, but he just scoffed at the absurdity of it. Then later when it became the “popular” thing to own among his friends, he reconsidered. Whatever the reason, I was thrilled and nervous when it all came together.
That same dear Grandmother had died and left me her land. No longer the farm I had remembered as a child, it was more scrub land and privet fields with boggy swamps. Neglect and misuse by the tenants renting and using the land had taken its toll. My husband and I spent many hours and dollars toiling away clearing the fields and building a small barn structure using recycled materials. A younger brother helped me with the fencing of property lines. Not exactly the tautest or straightest fences, but they sufficed. It was hard and laborious work during some truly brutal weather. I truly loved every single minute of it.
I felt that I was building more than a farm. I was building character and a future hopefully filled with happy family moments. Scout was long gone by then but the memories of our time together spurred the longing of a simpler time that I wanted my daughter to have the opportunity to experience.
Meantime my daughter was kept in the dark and we were able to surprise her on her thirteenth birthday with a thirteen year old horse named Doc. She had ridden this horse numerous times at a friend’s farm. He was the perfect first horse and when we were able to buy him it was a blessing. Not cheap but well worth the investment. A beautiful gentle roan quarter horse with just enough spirit to keep things exciting but not so much that he channeled Scouts dangerousness.
As her sister rode him down from the top of the hill, she was at first puzzled. She couldn’t figure out why her sister was riding a horse at first and then she couldn’t figure out why she was riding Doc. When we started singing “Happy Birthday” she was stunned. Tears rolled down her eyes in astonishment and I knew that we had pulled off the best surprise of her life.
Doc would give us several good years before he faltered in the field after a bout with cancer. I can’t remember crying so much over the loss of a pet as I did then. But in retrospect I can look back now without falling apart and be so thankful for the joy and happiness he brought as well as the peace of mind that we had chosen the right “first” horse.
His legacy would live on when we bought or acquired new horses along the way. I know that my Granddad had the best of intentions when he bought us old Scout. However, best intentions can have tragic results. Luckily it didn’t for us but the dangers that we were placed in on a daily basis gives me shivers today. Knowing the real and certain dangers that a horse can present to unskilled or even to skilled riders should never be ignored. This can’t be emphasized enough. Horses and ponies are a lot of fun but can be very dangerous creatures if not taken seriously.
Any one even thinking of getting or riding a horse or pony should first read everything they can get their hands on before considering taking on such an venture. Visit a local stable or farm and observe the interaction first at a distance and then with the supervision of an experienced owner. Never walk behind a horse without due care. And never let young children be around a horse without supervision.
Horses can bring such joy to us and give us unconditional love. But they can also bring some pretty nasty lessons too…..
In future blogs I plan to list other books that we found useful and informational. I also plan include the stories of our other horses and our “rescue” pets that we have adopted. Each one has their own unique story to tell and lessons learned. Please visit often and share the life lessons and adventures with me.
This past Saturday my daughter ran in the 2010 Country Music ½ Marathon Race in Nashville, Tennessee. We left home on Friday and drove up in order to get to the expo early and pick up her race packet. Our thinking was that being there in the morning as they opened we would beat most of the crowd. We were partially right. We may have beat some of the crowd but there were still thousands already there waiting before it even opened. We waited in lines just to get onto the escalators to go to the lower levels. It felt like we were cattle being herded to loading shoots.
This being the fourth leg of the 2010 Rock and Roll Marathon series, there were over 35,000 runners signed up to run including the YMCA’s kids marathon held on Friday. Almost 31,000 finished the full and half marathons. Multiply this with most people having additional family and friends with them to cheer them on and it was staggering.
The earlier race series were run in Arizona in January with over 27,000 finishers, New Orleans in February with almost 13,000 finishers, and Dallas, Texas in March with almost 9,500 finishers. Some of these races included half marathons, full marathons, 50K’s and 2 person relays. These are really big deals in the towns where they are held. In Nashville alone I read that they expected a minimum of 40 million dollars of revenue to be generated from this event alone. That’s astounding!
The Expo
Once we finally arrived at the entrance door to the expo at the Nashville Convention Center, we were directed to the registration lines. These were set up by whichever corral you had been assigned to at the start line according to your expected finish time. This was a time that you had predicted yourself based on your pace in previous races and training runs. As it were, we were sent to coral 9. The longer lines seemed to be at the higher numbers, so we were able to get to the counter fairly quickly.
Once my daughter gave her name, the man behind the packet pickup counter searched his box for her packet. She had to produce a driver’s license to verify her identity as no one else could pick up her packet for her. Once he saw where we were from, he kind of smirked and said “Hmmph! You guys came up here to run in our race. Don’t you have your own ones to run in?” We just looked at each other and tried to decipher if he was really serious. As he looked through his box he continued to mumble some incomprehensible nonsense. I jokingly offered to him that we often welcomed people from Tennessee in our races and were always happy to take their money so we figured Tennessee would like to receive some of ours back. He just ignored my comments and gave us our packet explaining where to go to get her t-shirt and how to change corrals. After taking the packet and proceeding on, we were feeling a little uneasy about the exchange we’d just had. Surely we told ourselves; in this day and age the “feuds” between states no longer existed.
After making a quick corral change to coral 8 to be able to run with a friend, we moved on to the t-shirt pickup and into the first section before actually entering the expo exhibits. Brooks Running Apparel had everything imaginable for sale. Not hugely discounted but if you looked hard enough you could find a deal or two. Limited in their sizes on t-shirts, but had some very friendly sales people. Their checkout counters were very well organized to handle the huge volume of customers there. After making a few purchases, we moved into the actual expo arena.
Holy Crowds! Dozens of vendors had been set up, each hawking whatever product they represented. It was an athlete’s dream. From shirts to shoes to hair implements to performance enhancing supplements. There were watches and bracelets to compression socks and quilts. It was off the wall! Publix was the mother lode. They were giving away food samples, noise makers and banners for the spectators to cheer on their loved ones.
We made our way to the line for the will call ticket booth for the concert that was to follow the awards ceremony that night. The lady there asked for the name and a photo ID. Again with the comments about being from another state. What the heck? I know for a fact that there were people from all over the United States running in this race. Even some international participants; so what gives? Was it just our state? Then when we walked away, I looked back and caught them giving us the stink eye. Good grief! Just smile and move on….
After spending quite some time at the expo, we finally made our way to the exit. Now it was on to the hotel. Our GPS gave us great directions; straight through industrial park and through the seedier part of the city. I don’t mind saying I was a little nervous about this hotel we had booked online.
However, once we arrived I was very pleased with our accommodations and location at the Radisson. It was out by the airport with eating establishments within walking distance. The check in was painless and pleasant. They even gave us vouchers for several complimentary meals in their restaurant. Very nice touch indeed and one that we took advantage of. The room was nice and clean and comfortable with a good view. They even made special arrangements for their guests to provide a shuttle bus to the starting line near the Parthenon in Centennial Park and from the finish line later at LP Field. This was wonderful since the tickets for the events shuttles were sold out already on Friday. Believe me the $20 that we paid was well worth the round trip afterwards. Especially after seeing the nightmare of parking at the event and the fact that the bus was waiting on us at the curb when it was over. Sweet! The shuttle bus concierge was sp pleasant and accommodating. He welcomed us-even if we were from another state!
Early Departure
The morning of the race was so exciting and at times overwhelming. The bus ride over to Centennial Park included people from Ohio and Boston. It was a first from the ones from Boston. They were nervous and anxious. We arrived at about 5:30 AM for the 7:00 AM start time. Thank goodness we did, because they moved the start time up because of the impending bad weather. That maneuver turned out to be a blessing and a curse for some.
Due to the nightmare of parking that many people and then gear drop offs that were across the park from the start line, if you weren’t there early you didn’t know about the start time change. Many of those that were in the earlier corrals didn’t get to start at their assigned times and had to jump in wherever. This turned out to be bad for those whose times were faster and had to fight past the slower runners.
The earlier start was good because it allowed most of the runners to be finished before the rain started. However, they had also implemented a cutoff time for the marathon runners to reach the halfway point before they were diverted to the half marathon course. Then because they felt the weather was an issue, the race officials cut the marathon course short and sent the marathoners to the finish line at 22 miles instead of 26. This was devastating to some who were trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon. This action knocked some out of the running completely. Very disappointing for them.
The Finish Line
My daughter finished with a personal record in her now worn out Brooks Glycerin running shoes. Unfortunately due to the sheer number of runners, I missed seeing her at the finish line, as well as everyone else I was there to support. Crap! But we were able to get pictures afterwards. It was scary though watching some of the runners literally being dragged across the finish line nearly unconscious. Sadly, we later learned that one of those runners actually died from cardiac arrest. Now that is truly frightening.
The girls were exhausted and hurting but exhilarated. A day well spent and one filled with lasting memories. The death aside, I must say the overall experience was something that I would have never wanted to miss. Taking just one more leg of this fabulous journey that we have chosen to embark upon.
The bus ride back to the Radisson included runners from Tennessee and Kentucky and some ladies from parts unknown. Our “Chatty Cathy” rider from Texas entertained us with his exhilaration and enthusiasm. The ride only took about 15 minutes but it was a nice finish to a well spent morning. However, there were a couple of speed bumps along the way back.
Crap Happens
One of the runners was nauseous and was giving it her best not to hurl over everyone aboard. Thankfully she waited until we made it back to the hotel. Unfortunately, another one of the riders had experienced what has to be the most humiliating things that could happen: runners trots. Oh Lordy! She had crapped herself and as we sat on the bus for a good twenty minutes before we left LP Field and another 15 minutes to the hotel, it got a little dicey. As we disembarked the bus and made our way to the lobby, it was painfully obvious what had happened. She had tried to cover it up with her jacket only to have it seep through. I just hate to think about the next group to ride that bus. Ugh! As we entered the elevators, some innocent bystander made a comment about something stinking. I wanted to crawl under the rug. I have definitely decided that the day something like this ever happens to me will be the day I give up running.....
Retail Therapy
After a well deserved nap and the passing of some ugly thunderstorms that spawned a few tornadoes, we decided to visit the Opry Mills Outlet Mall. We enjoyed the visit but quickly realized we were too exhausted to last very long. So after an hour or so we returned to the hotel, called it a night and retired to a deep sleep. The next day we had a noon check out and took full advantage of it. We packed up and headed home just in time to stop along the way to visit the Franklin Street Festival. Another adventure to blog about.
What a fabulous time we had! Next weekend it is a Run Through The Roses 10K run in Huntsville, Alabama.
Ok, so by now I should feel like a pro on this 5K stuff right? Saturday I ran my third 5K. I was feeling like I should be ready for this without any problems. After all, I have already run two previous ones. This was at my hometown where I grew up. I knew the roads intimately. This should be a cinch. Wrong!
While my nerves on race morning were a little bit better controlled, I still felt a strong sense of self doubt. Touted as a flat and fast course that would allow you to improve your personal record, I signed up for this one thinking “Alright! I got this!”
However, once I arrived I saw that a smaller field of participants meant that the likelihood of me being at the back of the pack was higher. The majority of these runners looked very seasoned and younger than me. As I see it younger usually means faster. Oh well, nothing ventured nothing gained.
My goal for the day was to first finish the race; second improve my personal record; and third not to come in last. As I relayed those goals to a friend who was running his second 5K, he told me that my goals were way too low. I should strive to WIN! As we lined up at the start line, I hung back. He came back to me and told me that I was taking a defeatist attitude by not lining up on the front; that positive thinking would make me run better and faster. I told him that I was just being a realist and letting the faster runners get a better start.
Then the horn blew and we were off. My friends and daughter rocketed across the start line to set the pace. I ran about a quarter of a mile and had to walk. What the HECK was going on with my body? My legs felt like mush and I couldn’t seem to get my breathing right. I looked around to see that I was at the back of the pack. Only a couple of people were behind me and gaining. I felt defeated already. Crap!
So I took a moment to gather myself and pushed forward. I ran slowly but steadily. Soon I started passing people. Several of those that had passed me had started walking by then and I soon made my way around them. Only a couple caught up to pass me after that point. Little by little I pushed my way through the runners until I had to stop again to walk. At a mile and half in I grabbed a drink of water at the water station. My mouth felt like I had cotton balls inside. As soon as I swished the water I was off again. Once I reached the two mile mark, I saw that I was off my desired pace by over a minute. Kick it girlie!
As I made the first turn past the two mile mark, I encountered the first of four speed bumps. It was comical to see the volunteers holding up signs to warn me that a speed bump was ahead when it was so largely obvious. Maybe it was hysterics or perhaps heat exhaustion, but I got so tickled that I got some funny looks as I trudged by. I was still laughing when I reached the second one at about 100 yards up the road.
Once I reached the two and half mile mark, I had slowed down to a walk again and was right behind a girl half my age walking. She looked dejected. I walked quietly behind her for about fifteen seconds and then took a deep breath. I looked at her and said “OK girlfriend-we’re at the two and a half mile mark. We can do this. Let’s go get ‘em!” She just smiled and shook her head no. I shrugged and took off again. As I neared the next to last turn there was a slight hill. I was all alone, except for the construction workers who just stared as I blasted down the incline as fast as my little short fat legs would go. I was reminded of my daughter jokingly telling me that I look like a hobbit when I run. Well whatever I can do to entertain…
Then I encountered two more speed bumps complete with volunteers holding signs warning of their existence. More laughter ensued in between my loud gasping for breath as I continued to push onward. Come on now! I am wasting valuable resources with this silliness. Get on with it!
At the last turn before the half mile push to the finish line, I was even able to appreciate the attractiveness of the beefy fireman working traffic control. One has to be able to enjoy themselves whenever the opportunity arises- right?
The last quarter of mile was sheer torture. My lungs felt like hot pokers of fire. My legs were screaming. My nausea was dangerously close to some embarrassing attention. I saw the timer at the finish line. I had only a short time to kick it in to beat my previous time. My daughter and her friend appeared out of the crowd running back towards me on the sidewalk.
Please believe me when I say my daughter can rival any track coach when it comes to urging me on in those final yards. She showed no mercy as I sprinted with the very last drop of energy I could muster toward the finish line. It was like I saw it all in slow motion as I raced to beat the clock in my Nike Structure running shoes. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Gasp Gasp Gasp….
When I passed the finish line, I had shaved only a minute of my previous time off. But a minute was a minute and I’ll take what I can get. It was a hard earned minute and I refuse to diminish how significant it was to me.
Granted I am still as slow as a turtle compared to those in front of me, especially my daughter and friends. But each race is an improvement. There were still quite a few behind me yet to complete the race; the last one crossing a good twenty minutes behind me. As I sat on the sidewalk gasping for air, I knew I had done it! My husband, my daughter, friends and the crowd had all cheered me on to the finish. It was an incredible feeling.
After the race, the awards ceremony followed. My friend came in first in his age division. My daughter came in third overall female and first in her age group. Her friend came in first in her age group. And low and behold- I came in second in my age group! We all received medals and gift certificates to the local Athletics/ Sporting Goods store. Sweet!
The third race was just as important as the first and second because I learned new things each time. This time I learned that even though it may seem everyone at the first is going to kick my butt, I just need to do my thing and believe in myself. I learned not to give up or give in to insecurity and doubt. I also learned how to reach down deep for that sprint to the finish. These are some lessons that I think would be wise to carry over into everyday life as well. I realize that even if I do finish last, at least I am in the race. I learned to enjoy the ride! Finally I learned its okay to laugh at the speed bumps along the way….
