On Saturday, I ran my very first 10k race.
Behold: a blurry photo of me and my pal Kelly Jeppson at the starting line of the Deseret News Pioneer Day Marathon/10k. Those sunglasses certainly came in handy...as a headband. What better way is there to commemorate the day that Brigham Young led the first of 60,000 pioneers into the dry and desolate Salt Lake Valley, declaring "This is the right place," than to get up before the sun, don my comfy running shoes, and pound the pavement with thousands of strangers?
I was half-temped to put on a pioneer bonnet (I actually have one!) but I refrained.
We blame the photo's blurriness on the fact that we had all arisen at 4:00 a.m. to make it to the starting line on time. And let me tell you, that early, it didn't feel like no "right place." I haven't deliberately woken up this early in YEARS. Staying up UNTIL 4 a.m.? Now that's a different story...
Kelly convinced me to register for the race last month, and it's a good thing. Apparently the only reason I'm ever willing to run is if there's a BIG SCARY RACE looming in my future.
Sure, I ran a half-marathon last year. But 6.2 miles is still 6.2 MILES. And that's still very hard. And it still takes training and sacrifice to be able to do it. And I still worry about getting a side ache in the middle of the BIG SCARY RACE, or falling victim to something known as "runner's diarrhea," or finding myself unable to sleep the night before, or finishing DEAD LAST (just before the street sweepers).
But when I get caught up in the race-day atmosphere, that all melts away, and I feel a rush of energy and camaraderie. Look at all of us! We're all here! We're going to run this race together! We're the few, the proud, the tired!
I do feel a bit pretentious calling what I do a "race," because I'm really just there to "endure" and/or "finish." However, right at the starting line, I always do pick one person who will NOT beat me, no matter what. This time it was The Lady in the Purple Shirt. She remained just out of reach, running like the Energizer Bunny, until the very last mile, when I passed her and managed to best her by at least a minute.
Thank you, Lady in the Purple Shirt, you were a worthy opponent.
And here's a picture of Kelly crossing the finish line. Way to go, Kelly! This was her first 10k too, and her longest race so far, and she rocked it.
If they handed out Miss Congeniality medals along with 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place ribbons, Kelly would be a shoe-in. She is the friendliest runner around, commenting on people's adorable outfits as she passes them, expressing her amazement to teenagers who can text while running, and cheering on 8-year-olds who are keeping up with their dads. We both had to applaud the blind runner whom we passed at around mile 4. Seeing her pressing forward without even being able to see the course ahead of her (she was with a guide), made me feel the triumph of the human spirit. If she can do this, I can do this. Just suck it up and keep running, Angie.
And now for a few highlights:
The crisp coolness of the morning as the sun slowly rose.
Getting there in plenty of time to stand in line for the port-a-potties nearer to the front of the pack than at the back. (It makes all the difference in the world when it comes to the "atmosphere" inside the putrid plastic cubicles.)
Keeping pace with Kelly for mile after mile, chatting and keeping track of each other. I'm usually a solitary runner, so this was a delight!
Turning the corner on mile 4 to find ourselves running along the 24th of July Parade route. People camp out on the streets of Salt Lake City all night long to witness the state's biggest parade. There were hundreds of people lining the last two miles of the race course, and they were all cheering us on! (Those who weren't huddled in their sleeping bags, catching a few remaining winks, that is.)
The kind young gentlemen on mile 5 who held silver platters and handed out plastic champagne glasses filled with ice-cold Perrier. My kind of guys!
Seeing groups of kids standing along the route, holding out their hands so runners could high-five them as they passed.
Finishing strong and in record time (for me) and then being on an unbelievable high the rest of the day. I wanted to conquer the world and hug everyone in sight that day. For some reason, my runner's high lasted for hours and hours, and it was glorious! I thought to myself, "This is why I do this. THIS is why it's all worth it."
Yep, that was my time—a pace of about 10.5 minutes per mile. Sure, the race winners finished in less than HALF of that time, but I wasn't in it to win it. I was in it to finish. And I did.
* Today marks the first time I've included the word "diarrhea" on this here blog. And it took me three times to spell it right! Maybe the impossible spelling is an evolutionary thing, kind of like porcupine quills or those spiky things on artichokes, to discourage people from bothering with it. But I won't be deterred. Diarrhea.
