Sorry, I forgot it was a kid's race
This has been a pretty tough fall for me. I ended up leaving my job, moving, getting derailed by hurricane Sandy, etc, etc. All of those excuses are merely to cover for my lack of training and fitness. I figured a large "Turkey Trot" 5K would be the least likely place to embarrass myself, so I chose this past week as my first Team New Skin race of the year.
While I was prepared for the three miles of intense pain, I was not ready to dodge all of the small children that sprinted out in front right off the bat (see picture). Within a half mile, though, the overeager kids with surprisingly sharp elbows at a very unfortunate height have all started sucking wind and falling back.
The race began to string out pretty quickly and a small pack of around 6-8 settled in for the next mile or so. As usual at these shorter races, it is pretty easy to tell who are likely to be the front-runners: current college runners sporting their cross country uniforms at home for Thanksgiving, people who are coordinated (like me), and slightly older gentlemen sporting a running club jersey and very short shorts or half-tights (as an aside, runners tend to be made fun of enough for our body shapes, there is no need to accentuate that by men wearing short spandex showing everything off to the world. Come on people, it's 8am and I haven't even had coffee yet).
Over mile 2 I slowly moved up through the field until I was in 3rd place. The guy in first place started ticking off 5:15 miles so there was no way I could catch him. The one in second, though, really bothered me. Bothered me in the sense that I became really disappointed in my barrel-shaped winter body and wished that I could return to even a shadow of my previous form. He even started turning his head around to see how much room he had, which is usually a sign for me to then close the gap. But as hard as I tried, the distance stayed the same.
Not to prolong a sad tale, but I never managed to catch up to second place and had to settle for a time that just dipped under 18 minutes, which might be the worst 5K I have run in a number of years. The good news is, there is nowhere to go but up from here! Here's to optimism! And training!
While I was prepared for the three miles of intense pain, I was not ready to dodge all of the small children that sprinted out in front right off the bat (see picture). Within a half mile, though, the overeager kids with surprisingly sharp elbows at a very unfortunate height have all started sucking wind and falling back.
The race began to string out pretty quickly and a small pack of around 6-8 settled in for the next mile or so. As usual at these shorter races, it is pretty easy to tell who are likely to be the front-runners: current college runners sporting their cross country uniforms at home for Thanksgiving, people who are coordinated (like me), and slightly older gentlemen sporting a running club jersey and very short shorts or half-tights (as an aside, runners tend to be made fun of enough for our body shapes, there is no need to accentuate that by men wearing short spandex showing everything off to the world. Come on people, it's 8am and I haven't even had coffee yet).
Over mile 2 I slowly moved up through the field until I was in 3rd place. The guy in first place started ticking off 5:15 miles so there was no way I could catch him. The one in second, though, really bothered me. Bothered me in the sense that I became really disappointed in my barrel-shaped winter body and wished that I could return to even a shadow of my previous form. He even started turning his head around to see how much room he had, which is usually a sign for me to then close the gap. But as hard as I tried, the distance stayed the same.
Not to prolong a sad tale, but I never managed to catch up to second place and had to settle for a time that just dipped under 18 minutes, which might be the worst 5K I have run in a number of years. The good news is, there is nowhere to go but up from here! Here's to optimism! And training!
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