First, I haven't been running as much as I would like to before a race because I've been injured.
Second, I have been injured, so running my hardest seems ill-advised.
Third, I was up too late watching the Lebron do more in one second than Bobby Sura did in his entire career.
Fourth, I couldn't sleep after the game was over and would have to get up early to run.
Fifth, it was going to be way to hot for me to race.
Sixth, the plan was to run 9.5 miles to the start of the race, then race.
Seventh, the race allowed pet owners to run with their pets, which made me more than a little nervous.
Eighth, I was out of bananas.
Somehow, I still couldn't convince myself not to run.
So, when I woke up an hour earlier than I needed to, even if I was going to run, I decided on the race. I could still back out, right? I hadn't paid my money, so if my legs weren't up to it, I could always just call it a day then. But let's face it, that probably wasn't going to happen.
The warm-up was a great run. When we started, the weather was ideal, sunny but cool. There were 5 of us and we ran at a nice clip for the first few miles through residential neighborhoods. My watch was still off, so it was giving me more than the benefit of the doubt on the distance. Most of the run took place on the Olentangy Path. I guess I'd run almost the entire thing at one time or another, but had never gone that far south on one run.
My legs felt fine. Aside from a small blister on my foot, I was ready to race. Not sure how hard I could/would push the pace, but I thought I could at least try for a respectable time. There was no way I was going to back out now. I didn't even give it a second thought when we walked over to registration.
The registration area was pretty crowded with dogs and people everywhere. The preregistration line was actually way longer than the race day registration, so we got signed up pretty quickly, but the rest of the racers were a bit behind, so there was a slight delay. Not a problem, unless you're just off a 9.4 mile run and your legs are trying to tighten up.
Actually, I felt good, leg-wise. My stomach on the other hand was not. My apple and pretzel were long gone, the bottles of gatorade and water since sweated out, and a lone Gu in my stomach. I was a little dizzy and wondered just how much damage I'd do to my body by running this thing.
We inched our way forward for the start. The gun/guy's voice went off and we started out up a hill. That used to be my specialty, but since moving to flatland, and since being injured, I haven't run up anything with any sort of incline. Still, I tried to settle into a pace I thought I could sustain.
Problem was, I had no idea how fast I was going or how fast a pace I could sustain. Fortunately, Dave and Liz passed me and I gave chase. Maybe, since they just ran 9 miles, I'd be able to keep up. Of course, I was just as fatigued, but my oxygen-deprived brain didn't think of that. I managed to stay pretty close over the first mile. Kate cursed me about a quarter mile in, for having run already and still being ahead of her. I didn't mention to her that I have a long history of overly-eager starts followed by overly-humbling fades.
The course was pretty wide open, with only a few dogs in sight. The race wound through the arena district, not the most interesting place to run, but during a 5-k, especially one where you are trying to stave off total body shutdown, you don't exactly watch the scenery. I was starting to get a bit thirsty, and the bowls of water dotting the course for the canine entrants were looking tempting. But I didn't want to stop. I had hit the first mile and was only a few steps behind Liz and Dave, got to keep up. I heard them remarking about the pace, a little too fast, maybe? That works in my favor because I'm going slower, right?
The second mile was starting to wear on me. I was fatiguing and trying to keep the pace. But I was hot, tired, and left turns aggravated the blister on my foot. The water stop left me slightly less thirsty. I remember seeing the sign for mile 2, so I had a good sense of how far I was. But when we looped around for the second time, we hit a wall of people and pets. The people walking their dogs at the back were everywhere. There was a little room to the left, but mostly we started weaving in between dogs, people, and the traffic cones.
By the time I hit the second mile marker, I was pretty much just gutting it out. I had lost touch with Dave and Liz. I was just trying to maintain my pace. The course was mostly downhill over the last half mile and I was using every bit of those skills Keller taught us years ago.
The final turn is the same as in the marathon, but Liz didn't turn right away and I panicked. I was under the impression that I only had to go down the hill and into the chute. If there was more, I just didn't have the legs-- oh, she's turning, nevermind.
I passed through the chute and glanced at the clock, 20:45. I'll take it. I was not even going to try to pull off my tag. I let the volunteer fumble for it. But then someone handed me a plaque. A nice surprise, I guess it wasn't such a bad idea after all.
The rest of the gang finished, including Thor and Griffin, Mark's canine contribution. Liz won (but got a plaque that said Top 20 Female Finisher). Fortunately, we didn't have to run back to the house. We changed and celebrated with Mexican food for breakfast.
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