First 5K at 50

On this past New Years Eve I ran in my first 5K. Just a week shy of my fiftieth birthday, eighty pounds overweight and very much out of shape, I let my daughter convince me to run in this crazy race. Perhaps it was some mid life crisis I was feeling over the reality of turning 50 or just pure denial at the sad state I had allowed my body to reach that caused me to agree to this insanity.

Whatever the reason, I made the commitment. I filled in the registration form, circled my shirt size, sent in my check and made my plan. From the moment I watched the mailman take away my envelope, the anxiety started setting in. What had I just done???

In the weeks leading up to the event, my anxiety rose to near panic. I asked myself a thousand questions: “What if I couldn’t finish the race?” “What would I wear?” “What could I wear?” “Will my fat jiggle everywhere?” “Will people laugh at me?” “What if I make a fool out of myself?” “What if I had a heart attack?” Good grief that would be embarrassing (not to mention inconvenient) “Dang-what was I thinking?” I wasn’t a runner. I was barely a walker!!

One thing I found out at the beginning of this little endeavor was that most fitness stores do not carry large women size clothing. And don’t even think about the clothing stores for larger women carrying anything remotely “work-out-ish”. They don’t want you to even think about losing weight! However, after searching high and low, I was able to find a runners skirt, some tights and a nice shirt to wear. A good sports bra is a MUST! I went to a specialty store and was fitted with the proper running shoe; bought some good cushiony socks, a Nike cap and I was set. Clothing wise anyways; my fitness level was another whole subject.

Then it was New Years Eve. While most normal people were getting ready for their night out, I was in absolute panic mode readying myself for a night of what was sure to be hell. Worrying about all the possibilities, I felt that if I just finished that would be enough of an accomplishment for now.

My daughter kept reassuring me that I was going to be fine. I had been running at the local track with her for the past month and a half. I wasn’t able to run the whole three miles, but I could do the walk/run enough to finish. Always well winded and struggling but I was able to complete the 3.1 miles.

So when the evening hour approached and the weather started to turn bad, I knew this might be an omen. First the temps dropped into the 30’s. Then the rain and sleet started to fall intermittently. The wind was cold enough to feel like a knife was slicing through to your bones. Lycra and spandex do not keep you very warm. Add a bad case of nerves and what a mess I was. To add insult to injury, I had to drive 45 minutes to the event; stopping for gas because someone in my family had used my car without refueling it!

We arrived at the race sight, went in to the registration table and that is where I saw the sign that stated that the race officials had placed a cut off time on the race of 45 minutes. My heart sank because that was close to the time I had been running in my training. Yes I know that is slow, but I was a beginner and I was trying. I began to work myself up big time after seeing that stupid sign. As if I wasn’t nervous enough, now I had a time constraint to work with. My daughter tried to reassure me but wasn’t being very successful. She later told me I sounded like our dog when he gets worked up and starts whining until he is howling in uncontrollable panic.

The course was a hilly road that would begin at the top of a hill, race down to a school parking lot, then back up the hills toward the start point and further towards more hills, circle a large shopping center, then back out towards the starting point, traversing more hills and ending in a church parking lot. Not the best course for a first-timer.

So in the biting cold, we lined up; about 100 racers in the dark. I moved to the back of the pack, my daughter was at the front. I didn’t know any of the other racers. They ranged from seasoned pros to what looked liked semi pros to me. Then the sound of the fog horn was blown and we were off. I pushed the button on my watch and away I went.

Right off the bat, I was elbowed, jostled and passed. I was able to keep up fairly well until about a ½ mile in. Then I just couldn’t keep the pace with those around me and started falling back. I slowed down to a walk long enough to catch my breath and faced my first hill. I chugged up the hill and then down it. I made the first curve and up the next hill. Slowly but still going. Through a school parking lot and back out the way I had just come. Back up the hills I had just trudged up and down. I checked my watch. Suffering Succotash!!!-the stupid thing wasn’t working! Curses!! I not only didn’t know my pace but I didn’t even know how far I’d come or had to go.

I saw officials, but no one was calling out my split times. No mile markers were to be found. It was dark and I was all alone in the cold except for a large man chugging along behind me looking every bit as miserable as I was. As we approached the starting point where a small crowd had gathered to cheer us on, the man passed me. Then the man veered off into the parking lot, went straight to his car, got in and drove off. What the Heck! Now that was definitely not encouraging. Barely half way in and mutinies were happening. I decided right then and there I was not quitting-no matter what!

Just a little past the start point, I met the front runner coming up the hill as he is returning to the finish line. Great! I am just barely halfway and he is finishing! Then as I go down the hill-still in the dark all by myself- I start meeting other runners as they come up the hill. At the bottom of the hill I meet my daughter as she is heading towards the finish line. I yell out to her that I realized that I wasn’t going to make the cut off time, but I was just going to finish it anyways; that I would see her at the finish line. She looks like she might be struggling a bit herself. As I start into the shopping center where there is a little more light, I see all the runners in front of me have already gone around the shopping center and have headed out. I don’t see anyone behind me. I trudge on. The officials are there calling out encouraging words spurring me on, but no one is calling out times or mileages. Lord will this ever be over!!

As I finally make it around the back of the shopping center and head back out to go up the last big hill, I start to see the other runners behind me. These runners have yet to even get into the shopping center. I am not the last runner!!! There are a dozen or so still behind me!! So I won’t be the only disqualified runner. Hoorah!

As I approach the top of the hill I run out of steam and walk yet again. I just want to finish this. I see my daughter appear out of the darkness. “What are you doing walking?” she yells. “Move it!” I tell her I know that I have missed the cutoff time. She yells back, “Mom it is only 36 minutes in. You have plenty of time! So MOVE IT! You’ve got this!!” I tell her I know she is lying to me just to get me moving. She yells back “NO I’M NOT! Let’s go!!” So I go!-Up the rest of the hill to the finish line. Coming in at 39 minutes; exhausted but within the cut-off time. My husband, other daughter and the crowd cheered me on. What a feeling that was to reach that finish line! I was slow as a turtle, but I did it! If my daughter hadn’t come back to urge me on, I may not have made the cut-off time. When the awards were given out later I was stunned to receive a second place trophy for finishing in the top three of my age division. That was hilarious! Granted there were only 6 in my age division, still a trophy is a trophy.

Wow what a night! I learned so many things that night. Such as to never give up. That my family has my back. How to reach down deep. To buy a better watch. To control those nerves better. That no matter what I may have looked like out there running, those people on the sidelines weren’t judging me. Even if they were it doesn’t matter because I was doing something. They were on the sidelines watching-not participating.

I have also found that runners are some of the best people you will ever meet. They are encouraging and very supportive of each other. I have attended dozens of meets and have seen every type of individual participating or attending. It is truly a sport for all. I love the motto: JUST DO IT!