The Eastman Road Race, which I just signed up to do, has a time limit on it. I'm not sure if it's always had one, or not. But it does now. Who knows? I might be the cause of this.
Let me explain.
Back in 2005, when I got serious, I was walking every day. Religiously, for one hour. And I did very well. But later in the year, when I lost steam, and kept trying in vain to kick start myself...that was when I discovered running. And how much I loved it.
I love everything about running: the way it makes me feel, but so much more than that. I love the way my feet feel when they strike the pavement. I love the way my mind grays out until there is nothing left but the rhythm of my stride. I love the sound of my breath in the stillness of pre-dawn. I love the smell of the track...or new-mown grass as I run by. I love running.
I also love knowing that I'm a runner...that I've accomplished things that many far more fit than I will never even attempt. Even if no one ever thinks I am by my appearance, I know. Such a sense of power and confidence is attached to that. I. Am. A. Runner.
Hell, yeah.
For years, growing up in Atlanta, I watched the runners in the Peachtree Road Race thunder past as I stood on the curb, and dreamed that I might one day get up the guts enough to do what they did. And when I started running, I found myself thinking about that race. One day....maybe next year....I'll run that race.
Except that next year didn't come. I didn't push myself...it was just a pipe dream, like most other things in my life. A bucket list item that would never get a check, except in my head.
In 2009, I decided, once again, to get serious. I had moved to TN a year ahead of my husband, who was finishing a contract with the state of GA before joining me, and I really wanted to get fit before he arrived, so that he would be proud of me. That was my goal...I wanted to do it for him.
Anyway....I've seen the Peachtree grow over the years from just a couple of hundred runners in the 70's to be the largest 10k in the world, with 60,000 runners. And I decided that 2009 was my year. I woke early one Sunday morning, at the allotted time, and readied my computer to enter....first come, first served, and I knew it would be a madhouse. Fortunately, I was able to grab a coveted slot, and before I realized what I was doing, I had registered. I was ecstatic. I was actually gonna do it!!! I was gonna run the Peachtree!!!
And then it hit me. Oh, God....I was gonna run the Peachtree. I had to do it now...I had signed the dotted line. I was committed. There was no turning back....the start line was coming, and on July 4th, I would be crossing it. Whether I crossed the finish line was up to me.
There's never been a motivator like spending money....at least, not to me. And the thought of receiving a race packet in the mail and never wearing that number was unthinkable. So....I started training. Hard.
By June, I was running 5 miles, easily, and bordering on 6. My mother in law suggested I enter a local race, the Covered Bridge 5k, to give me the experience of actually running a race before the BIG one, so I did. The morning of the race fell four weeks out before the Peachtree, and during my pre-race warm-up jog, I felt a crunch in my left hip. It wasn't painful, exactly....it was weird. And it left me feeling very shaky and wobbly. Still...I had come too far, and so I ran. Adrenaline got the best of me in the first quarter mile, but then I loosened up and headed for the highway. Turning the first corner, I felt my hip crunch again. At that point, I almost quit running....but I was determined to finish that race. My only goal was to not finish dead last...and as long as there was one turtle on that course slower than me, it was all good.
The entire race, I kept that one turtle in my sights, and eventually faught my way past her to finish. My final time: 42:22. And there were not one, but seven little turtles behind me.
I rested my hip a lot for the next two weeks, doing my best to give it time to heal before the Peachtree....and it felt good the day of the race. I had entered with a goal in mind of finishing in 90 minutes. When I checked my time at the final turn, I had exactly five minutes, and a half mile to go. I don't know where I got it, but I turned on the heat, and flew down 10th street, crossing the finish line in tears...exactly three blocks away from where I had grown up. All I could think of was how proud my parents would have been of me, had they been alive to see it.
My final time: 88:28
My step-mom (she IS my mom, for all intents and purposes; she raised me) called me on the way back to the car, in tears. She'd been watching for me on the TV, but hadn't seen me in the mob of people, and was so proud of me.. It meant so much that I wasn't alone.
After that, I just drifted a bit. I ran, but only half-heartedly. After all...I'd accomplished my goal, spectacularly, I might add....I had proven that I could go the distance, so I'd be ok when it came to the Eastman 10k I had already signed up for in September....
...right?
The day dawned bright and clear. I took a few laps around the parking lot, but I could tell it was gonna be a fight to finish the run. My lack of preparation was evident. I struggled so hard through that race, and by the second half, I was horror-struck that they were dismantling the water stations and taking down the signs by the time we passed. I hung with the last few stragglers for most of the way, but they finally pulled away in the fifth mile. And I was alone when I crossed the finish line.
Well...except for the guys in the golf cart behind me....the sweepers, bringing up the rear of the race. People cheered me...the ones that were left. I've never been so humiliated in my life. I finished dead last. They never recorded my time. And I swore I'd never run such a disorganized race again.
Except that it really wasn't the fault of the organizers....it was mine. All mine, and I can own up to that now. That's why I wanted to start back by entering THIS race. I have something to prove...to myself, and to them.
This time, I noticed that there is an 80 minute time limit in place. I'm not sure if there was one before or not, but I can't help wondering if my late finish (95-98, if I remember right) might have been the cause. They were tired of waiting around for stragglers.
So...I've been doing some calculating.
In order for me to finish this race in the allotted time, I will have to run it at a pace of 12:90. In order for me to run it in 75 minutes (five minutes hedge time), my pace will need to be 12:09. So, my goal is to run a 12 minute pace.
And as of yesterday (C25K week 2, day 2), my pace is 14:82. I've got a lot of work to do. But as God is my witness...I'll never be last again.
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