I have never been the type of person who is excited by physical competition. I hated whenever it came time to pick teams in school and I personally detest the game of dodge ball with a passion. I used to get in trouble with my PE teacher for walking off the court during dodge ball about five minutes after a new game would start. She never believed me when I said I had gotten hit. However, on a hot Sunday morning in July, I found myself equally excited and terrified to run my first 10K.
First, I did a nine-week couch to 5K training program. Then, I did a nine-week 5K to 10K training program. The logical thing to do was run a 10K at this point. That's what all the running books and magazines said, anyway. All the resources told me I would be more motivated to train if I signed up for a 10K and so that's what I did. Everyday the week before the race I told myself this is what I have been training for the past five months. I felt ready – until Sunday morning.
As I drove into Washington, DC to get to the C&O Canal Trail where the race was taking place, a million thoughts raced (take note of the pun) through my mind. What if I don't finish? What if I finish last? What if I didn't drink enough water? What if I get a cramp right after it starts? What if I have a heat stroke and pass out? Needless to say, these thoughts weren't helping my race day jitters.
I felt a little better after signing in and getting my number. Sure, there were guys bragging about running the Boston Marathon, but there were also people who looked just like me. They were in good shape, but not perfect shape. They looked excited, but apprehensive too. I had found my people.
Sadly, these things never start on time. I did my usual five-minute warm up walk and then I waited. I waited some more as the first wave, otherwise known as the fast runners, took off. The second wave, otherwise known as my people, nervously lined up at the starting line. It was less than five minutes, but it felt like twenty before the air horn finally blew. We were off.
As a runner, you know when you're having a good day and when you're having a bad day pretty quickly into your run. I was in luck; it was a good day. I breezed through the first three miles at a fast pace for me. Mile four was when it got rough. I told myself I'd run a slow fourth mile and then pick it up again for the final mile.
I kept expecting the finish line to be around every bend in the trail. It finally appeared and there was a woman just a little bit ahead of me. I pushed myself and got beside her. I said to myself, "Let's make it a real race!" and it was like I'd said it out loud. We both immediately started sprinting. As luck would have it, she kicked my slow butt. But I still finished almost two whole minutes before my goal.
As I reflect on the race, I am so happy I decided to do it. There is nothing quite as satisfying as not only accomplishing a goal, but exceeding your own expectations. Now, I'm training for my first half-marathon. Maybe by the end of the year I'll be happily reflecting on running the infamous 13.1.
