I kind of hate 5ks. But I really really like this friend, so I said sure.
The price tag didn't hurt. The 1970s-themed, $19.72 race entry fee was pretty enticing when you consider most 5ks in Chicago are pushing $40. It's hard to justify paying $40 to run three miles.
(Chicago is overrun with themed races. In fact, Chicago is overrun with races, period.)
I signed up, and then learned that my friend couldn't do the race after all.
Bummer. I don't mind running alone, but now I was alone doing a race I wouldn't have otherwise signed up for. Oh well. I'm cheap and not going to waste the entry fee.
The race was yesterday, on a Saturday morning, the day each week I do my long runs for the week. Friends wanted to meet at 6 a.m. to run (um, this is actually kind of a late start for some of us!) so I figured, ok, run 5 or 6 miles with them, run another mile to the race, do the 3.1-mile race and then run a mile back to the car, for 11 miles and change.
The run with my girlfriends, who are also all awesome, wound up being just great. We vigorously and enthusiastically dissected some major life issues facing one member of our group.
It was a serious discussion, but also one with lots of laughter and teasing each other.
"You're crying because you know it's true" became a jokey refrain. Inside jokes as always.
I love these women.
After we parted, I ran to the race, as you can see by this really amazing race pic I took, ha. I'm an ex-newspaper reporter, not photojournalist...
It was pretty warm at the start, but I figured I'd shoot for under 27 minutes. And we were off.
Within seconds of crossing the start line, I realized my shorts were untied. Usually, it's my shoes. I'm worse than my kids...
I managed to stay under 8:30 minute miles, but it was pretty tough. The last 5k I ran was last fall, when I was in marathon shape.
I am definitely not in marathon shape. But it was a frigid, sucky winter and chilly spring of not racing, running whatever I felt like and consuming lots of treats and red wine.
By the third mile, I was seriously asking myself why I ever, ever do a 5k race, which I feel compelled to run as hard as possible, as I started to feel a little sick to my stomach and had soaked my shirt with sweat.
Finish line in sight, I picked up the pace and knew I was easily under 27 minutes. As I neared it, I heard a woman call my name. Her voice was really, really familiar.
I didn't know anyone at the race, or so I thought, so I wondered who it was. I crossed the finish line at 26:31, fifth in my age group.
I almost just kept going, figuring I needed to run back to the car to get home, since we were having friends over that night for a cookout and I had a zillion things to get done.
But I decided to walk back and see who it was.
And I'm so glad I did.
It was a friend of mine from college who lost her husband two months ago. Her 10-year-old daughter was running the race and finished about the same time as I did.
I haven't seen her since his funeral, since she hasn't, understandably, wanted a lot of company or to be out and about, other than continue to juggle her kids' school and outside activities. I was so glad to spot her. If I didn't know anything, I'd say she seemed totally normal, smiling and cheerful and asking how my race was (!). She insisted on a hug, despite my gross, sweaty self.
She re-introduced me to her daughter, who was sweetly shy. Apparently she has run a few races.
I just love, love, love seeing young girls running.
My friend is surrounded by a huge community and family who is supporting her. There is a meal train that means she hasn't had to worry about making meals for her family. I was just so glad to see her and to be able to give her a hug.
And super glad I did that race. It was worth seeing her.
Great story!
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