5K - Part 2

Disclaimer: my husband has informed me that this post "is a little depressing and overly-critical" read at your own risk. :)

After my training run the weekend before the race, my confidence was through the roof. I had no idea if I'd be able to run 3.1 miles and I proved to myself that I certainly could and in under my goal time. I built myself up and was shooting for an even faster goal time on the actual race day because then I'd also have the adrenaline of every one around me too.

Here are the time goals that I had for myself:

I just want to finish, period, time: 45 minutes

I am pretty sure I can do this time: 40 minutes

My sister's first 5K time: 35 minutes

My super sonic time: 30 minutes

Finally, race day comes. I woke up at 4:00am to shower and get ready. I had to wake my baby up at 5:15am, to nurse her and get her ready. We left the house around 6:00am because we had about an hour drive to get to Boulder City to be ready for the race at 8:00am. 

The plan was: I would nurse B before we left, and then again right when we got there in the car. That way she would be good until I could feed her again after my race where we planned to go out to breakfast to celebrate. Evan would carry her in the baby bjorn and walk with me down to the starting line, which was about a 1/2 mile away from the parking lot.

We made our way over and I stretched and used the restroom. There were over 400 people running in the 5K and over 600 people running in the 1/2 Marathon... so as you can imagine there were quite a few people there. The energy was intense and I was getting pretty excited.

My sister was running in the 5K, too and as it was, this was her and my husband's first race, LAST YEAR. This year, I specifically told her not to run with me. I know she's a lot fast than me and I didn't want to hold her back. Plus, more people to cheer for me at the finish line! :o)

The 1/2 Marathoners started and we made our way to the middle of the group. I was feeling really good and could hardly believe I was finally here and I was about to start running. My sister got lost in the crowd a little ahead of me so I was alone. I looked around and smiled to myself and turned on my ipod. The first song on my playlist was specifically "Proud" and this song has sort of become my theme song over the years (it was the theme song for the TV show Biggest Loser, which I've watched religiously for years). 

Que: tears. 

We had shoe tags so I walked until just before the sensor, then I was off. The sun was shining, my theme song was blaring, I'd come such a long way and here I was, running in my first 5K. 

I started off strong. No matter what my time was, all I knew was that I did NOT want to walk at all. Honestly, I was fine with a finish time of 60 minutes as long as I didn't walk.

Someone should have made me listen to everyone who told me to eat first if that was my goal.

You see... during all of my training runs I figured out that no eating/drinking = no cramps and eating/drinking anything = cramps. Forget the fact that all those times I would get up at 7 or 8am and run immediately after nursing B. I didn't take into account the fact that I was getting up at 4am and not running until 8am. FAIL.

So, the fact that I'd had no food and no water and I'd been awake for 4 hours contributed to the fact that... you guessed it... I walked some. 

Also, I remember my husband telling me that if I get tired I should run slower. For some reason my body would not allow me to run slower no matter how hard I tried. FAIL.

The only goal that I had set for myself during the race that I actually achieved was not letting my sister see me walk. I didn't want her to see me walking so I ran and ran and ran until she had reached the turn around point and was headed back and passed me. I waited about 1 more minute then walked for the first time. 

After that very first time, it was all downhill (and not literally) from there. I ended up walking about 4 or 5 times total and I had lost all motivation and I was really hating life and myself for most of the race after that. I wasn't feeling the race anymore and I'd lost my confidence along the way. I was sure that I'd finish in around 60 minutes because it seemed to be taking forever. Every time I would think that I was getting close, I would catch a glimpse of the finish line waaaaaaay off in the distance.

I kept at it, willing myself to just finish already. As I got closer to the finish line I knew I would sprint for the finish. With about 100 yards to go I mustered every single ounce of energy I'd every known and I sprinted until my heart felt like it would burst. My legs were moving faster than I'd ever known them to move (even my husband said he has NEVER seen me run that fast). I heard the announced say "WOW!" I just wanted to finish strong and get even a tiny bit of my dignity back. I heard my friends and family cheering and yelling my name and I ran across the finish line.

Official Time: 42:03

In the end, I'm just glad it was under 60 minutes. But what was inconceivable to me was how in the world I finished almost exactly 1 minute slower than my training run the week before, but this time I walked some and the week before I ran the entire way?

My husband and I figured out that I must have been running faster during the race than during my training run - which tired me out quicker - and that each time I walked actually helped me recover some energy in between the times that I ran.

So, there you have it. I finished my race. I walked when I told myself I didn't want to. I finished in under my goal time of 45 minutes. I didn't die. Success.