This won't hurt a bit...

This morning I endeavored to race my very first race. Granted, it was, to most, a measly 5K (3.2 miles), but it was a big deal to me. I've been putting in the time and figured that before this 10 miler bites me, I better get used to the racing part. And so I suited up (I'm a swimmer at heart) to be at the starting line at 7:30am.

The rules of the race did include the fact that headphones and babystrollers were considered race contraband and were prohibited. So I hid mine. I figured if they wanted me to take it off, hell, they'd have to CATCH me. Come to find out, most of my competitors had headphones and so I felt a little more at ease about my need for "Shake That" and "Golddigger" during the run.

I had three goals this morning.
1) Finish. Finish running. Finish in under 45 minutes-- the dropdead point when they'd kick you off the course.
2) Finish anywhere but last place. I didn't care if double amputees finished ahead of me, I just didn't want to finish dead last.
3) Don't get caught with headphones. If they were, indeed, out to catch people with them.

I got a solid piece of advice from a friend, and a running vetern, that when the horn blows, don't take off like a shot -- much like everyone else will. Take your time, find your pace and go with it. And don't be all caught up in how far back you are -- because it evens out when those clowns wear out. Totally solid piece of advice.

With the sound of the horn, I started. People flew past me. I caught my brave, loyal BFF on the sidelines waving enthusiastically (god love her for coming with me! I ran, she peoplewatched. It was a true win-win.). Started off with a little "Baba O'Rielly" to get the mood just right and trudged onward. I began to notice that I was fast sinking to the back. And when I turned around at the 4 minute mark, I was second to last -- and quickly being passed by a VERY old lady who was, what appeared to be, power walking. Well, now, IT.WAS.ON. We paced eachother, and I admit, if I felt she was creeping up on me, I'd edge her out a little to the curb. This was war!

I think my amusement really hit an all time high when the 10K racers -- who had a 5 minute staggered start behind the 5Kers -- BLEW past me. You know you're in the back when the NEXT group of racers charge past you. I literally laughed out loud -- but I made it seem to the old lady like her piddlie efforts at beating me for 2nd to last place were to be sorely thwarted.

I should really cut myself some slack -- cause I wasn't so terrible -- and not terrible at all for my first race. As the race wore on, my friend was right. The super fast runners turned to walkers. I totally overtook that old lady on the first hill. Kids' shoelaces became untied and those who started out strong were fading back. (this is all aside from the nut jobs who were sprinting the whole thing). I started to count as I passsed them -- 7th from the back, 8th from the back, 9th from the back -- GIDDY with delight at my small victories of passing them.

I sprinted the last .25 and passed an old man on the way. Yeah, he ate my dust. I finished at 38:10 and still feel pretty damned proud of myself. I hear the winner of the 5K finished in under 17 -- clearly, he's insane. And probably not the least bit fun.

I didn't finish last. And I had a nice buffer of "last-ers" behind me. I ran the entire time, and honestly felt like I could have eeked another mile out of that run, if I had to. I didn't get kicked off the course for being wholly and entirely lame and I wasn't accosted for my musical contraband. The race was a success. And hell, I got a sweet 5K race wife-beater just for showing up. What could be better than that?

Seriously, 10 miler. You just wait til October. I'm gonna bring it so hard, 10-miler, you gonna cry.