Today was my first official race of any kind - a 5K run. Roughly 2 months into my triathlon training and this was my first opportunity to measure the success of tri training. The experience was exhilarating! The event was the Plainfield Harvest 5K Run/Walk. It was a flat course with a few turns and rolling bends along the DuPage River.
I was one of 650 participants - the largest turnout the event has had since its inception. A motley mix of people from all walks of life were present - from the shirtless, hardcore runners to the moms/dads pushing their babes in running strollers. I saw people who personified the biker life style with Harley gear, handlebar moustaches and beer bellies. There was a man who ran by pushing his wife in a wheelchair - and he kicked butt finishing in the top echelon of hardcore runners! A father ran the entire 5K race with his daughter, who appeared no older than six. iPods, GPS watches and prosthetic limbs - all the gears and gadgets were present. An interesting race this was.
Even before the race, the ritualistic preparations of many of the runners brought a few chuckles until I realized that someone was likely to be smirking at my own self-rationalized preparation. Anyhow, it was interesting to watch how others readied their finely honed bodies to race in this sprint. Chest beating, "drag-racing" style burnouts just before the start of the race to prep those legs, butt-kickers, yoga-posing, calisthenics, eating bananas and bagels, peeling off one of the six layers of clothing each five minutes prior to the start, setting up the iPods, running the entire course prior to the official race (are you nuts?), but for the most part most of the folks stood idly at the start with arms folded and lifting their heels up and down as they awaited the firing of the starter's pistol. For myself, fifteen minutes of stretching, a ten-minute warm-up jog, and a few flat out twenty-second runs seemed to get me pumped up and adequately impressed with myself. A few kids watching me from a nearby playground set looked on with interest. Five minutes ‘til the start of the race....
I boldly weaved my way close to the start of the pack leaving the front couple of rows for the shirtless guys. We listened as the emcee offered thanks to each of the sponsors, introduced the dignitaries present, discussed the route layout and location of water stations and then we sang or mumbled our way through the National Anthem. All right - the beginning of the race. The starter pistol was raised, the runners leaned forward, a last second shout, "Wait! Wait!" from a runner whose watch wasn't ready. Three, two, one... the gun doesn't go off as the entire crowd of 650 runners lurched forward with a collective sigh, stopped and laughed. The starter shook his gun and even looked down the barrel of the cap gun as if the imaginary bullet was stuck halfway. A new cap and "Pop!" we're off.
A typical start for a newbie like myself, I ran as hard and fast as a Chariot On Fire! Wow! I was near the front racing with the big boys! Back straight, leaning forward slightly, swiveling my hips, my hands low and loosely clenched and my elbows swinging parallel. Ran up along the side of a runner wearing a black singlet and fluorescent yellow shoes. He turned to me with his eyes hidden behind Oakley Blades. I nod, he peels out ahead leaving me beside a plume of smoke. Wow! This is when I realized I needed to race within myself. I am sure my heart thumping in a manner befitting an eventual alien birth from my chest had some influence on my need to slow down. I settled into a comfortable pace - even let the guy pushing his wife in a wheelchair go by. 6:15 for the first mile -not bad for me, a personal best. I found someone to keep pace with throughout the remainder of the race. She was an excellent young runner who didn't seem to mind a clydesdale running behind her. We even took turns drafting and pacing each other. 6:35 for the second mile. We hit the turnabout as the lead runners flew by in the opposite direction with tumbleweeds and bits of paper chasing behind them. As disappointed as I was to not be at the front of the group, I realized that I was way ahead of most of the other runners as I completed the turnabout and stared down the road at the large, remaining group of runners, my peleton, heading my way! However, I didn't see any afterburner tumbleweeds behind me to impress anyone. Oh, well. In the last mile, I ran behind my pacing partner. No one would pass us...except for one fifteen-sixteen year kid running in baggy shorts, flat adidas with both his shoelaces untied. Huh! 6:40 for the third mile. The last tenth of a mile, I can see the balloon filled archway of the finish line. The end is in sight. Heart rate is 185 and climbing. Faster and faster! I am slowly morphing into Roger Bannister: head back, jaw slack and chest puffing forward...
The end came with cheers, congratulations and the customary cattle herding through a rope maze to turn in my race tag/number. Then it was off to greet my adoring, fanatical fans: namely my kids, Devon and Claire, and my wife, Maxine. Hugs and kisses were given all around. That beat any greater desire I may have had for things like oxygen or water or ATP energy. It was off to find the bananas and bagels, a free massage and await the real purpose of any charity 5K run - the raffle! Darn! Didn't win that either.
Even though I found some humor in the run today, I know that for every one who completed their first race like me today or their 200th race, the end result is still the same: attainment of an incredible high that comes from reaching a goal. Very few things give you the same kind of rush that comes as your body eases out of race mode just beyond the finish line. It's addictive! And you're experiencing that feeling with 650 other people who have come together from their lonely, daily training regimens with a common goal to better themselves physically, mentally and spiritually. That's the idea that blows me away about running...with tumbleweeds and bits of paper chasing after.
