I Accidentally Ran A 5K
It's true. I accidentally ran a 5K Saturday morning. I say accidentally because I totally didn't mean to do it and 5K because, well, the race was 3.1 miles and that makes it a 5K.
When I signed up, it was with the intention of walking the 5K. Not running, walking. Let me be more clear. If I had intended to run the thing, I would have worn a more supportive undergarment.
My youngest daughter wanted to walk the race, benefitting our local zoo, with me. Neither one of us wanted to run and, with the exception of skipping through Target's office supplies section recently, we hadn't prepared in any way, shape, or form. But there we were, running the race, which was interesting because our only goal was to finish ahead of everyone pushing a stroller.
And let's be honest. My kid and I are both competitive and if we had mustaches, we'd be twirling them like evil villains plotting our strategy to win the race. Suddenly it didn't matter that our only goal for the race was to finish ahead of everyone pushing a stroller. A few times of getting passed by stroller-pushing runners wearing full makeup was enough to make us kick it up a notch and take those stroller pushers down.
Ergo, we started to run. It was awkward at first, like putting on a pair of heels after spending your summer in flip flops, but we quickly got into the rhythm of running. Soon I started feeling pretty darn good about myself. I may or may not have gotten kind of a big head about the whole experience. Sure I haven't run in weeks (okay, okay months) and my nightly bowl of Breyer's ice cream is still firmly in place, but hey. I'm running a race here, people. Yay me!
I was doing pretty well and feeling quite full of myself, until a pregnant lady pushing a toddler in a stroller ran up beside me. As she was jogging past me, I asked her how far along she was. "Eight and a half months tomorrow!", she happily chirped as she passed me. Then she gave me a small finger wave and yelled, "See you at the finish line!" before increasing her speed and leaving me in her dust.
Ugh. Not feeling so good about myself right now.
Besides being passed by a very pregnant lady, know what else was kind of a buzzkill? The sudden thunderstorm at mile one point five. You read that correctly. A thunderstorm, as in thunderbolt and lightning, very very frightening. Yeah, I could have done without that quick inch of rain, but to be honest? Getting hit by lightning was a huge motivator for me to finish running (not walking) the race.
At mile two point seven, my youngest asked me if I knew what would make this race even better. I guessed finishing it on matching Rascal brand scooters (no), jet packing to the finish (yes, but no) and cutting across the park instead of running around it on the race's official course (again, yes but no). She said one word: capes. Capes? Yeah. Capes. Wearing capes would make this race even better.
This is so my child and for our next 5K, we are so wearing matching capes.
After we finished the race and caught up with my husband (who ran the whole race) (and not just to beat the makeup wearing stroller brigade, but because he fancies himself a healthy living kind of dude), we headed to the car as one drenched and sweaty trio. Along the way to our Honda, we were passed by a series of antique cars.
I don't know if it was the aftereffects of my imminent brush with lightning death or if I didn't properly rehydrate post race or what, but I admit to spending quite a few minutes thinking that I had actually run the race so fast that I somehow went back in time. You know, kinda like when Marty McFly hit eighty-eight miles per hour in the DeLorean and went back to whatever date was set on the clock. I must have been thinking about the 1930s went I hit eighty-eight miles per hour on the race course because this is what I saw passing in front of me:
Surprisingly, I did not travel back in time. I merely stumbled into the middle of an antique automoblies parade, which I then pretended was a parade held in my honor for winning the 5K and posting the fastest time ever. Then I decided that sounded a tad delusional, so I changed it to a parade in my honor for winning the race and taking down those stroller pushers.