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While the majority of my training was enjoyable (well, as enjoyable as running for a non-runner can be), I hit a plateau. Sometime in early May I just felt like I couldn't run any longer or faster than I already was. I was getting frustrated, and I was feeling really overwhelmed by the task that I set at hand.
Thinking back to the real impetus behind this goal, I remembered that what I was really setting out to prove wasn't that I could run 3.1 miles. But rather, that I could set a goal and actually follow through on it. The side affect, as I saw it, was the actual running of 3.1 miles.
As Memorial Day inched its way closer to us, and I wasn't feeling any better about my running, I decided, on a particularly awful running day, that I was going to just rip the band-aid off, so to speak, and run the damned 5k.
Was I read? Absolutely not. I was still a week away from officially finishing the Couch to 5k program, but I knew that if I didn't just do it, I never would. So I walked into work the Thursday before Memorial Day and pronounced to my classroom-mate and running partner Angie that I was going to run a 5k on Saturday, and that she was going to join me.
Angie and I had never run together, but we were both completing the same program. She had planned to run her first 5k in the middle of June, but I some how persuaded her to bite the bullet and run with me in a mere two days.
I didn't want to tell anyone in my family (and even hesitated asking Angie to join me) because I felt like this was such a solitary accomplishment. My sister wanted to be at the finish line when I completed my first race, and she happened to be out of town that weekend. I did finally break down and tell her that I was running, and immediately felt sad an teary that she wasn't going to be there. But it was something that I had to do.
Friday after work I went to the registration desk and registered Angie and me for the race. It was official! I chose this particular race because it had some sentimental value to me. It took place in the town that I grew up in, the course took us right in front of the house I grew up in, and it benefited the district's PTA.
As for the actual race? I was really nervous. I realized I probably wasn't prepared (but again, I just had to do it). We positioned ourselves near the back of the pack and set off running. We ran our first mile in 11 minutes (which for me, was not too shabby). It was really quite hot and humid that day and I hadn't run in anything oppressive. So we walked part of mile 2. After mile 2 we decided to run again, and I realized I was slowing Angie down. This was something that we both realized would happen. I think we reconciled this fact with the understanding that this was a "dress rehearsal" for Angie's real 5k (which she ran a few weeks later and dropped 10 minutes from her time). I began to feel frustrated and guilty for bringing her down, so I plead for her to run ahead, and I would finish on my own.
I should also take the time to state here that we were dead. last. the whole time. There were even walkers ahead of us. Yikes.
Somehow I found the fire in me to keep going (even though I had removed my number, thinking I didn't want anyone to think I was really the last person) and kept going. And I finished. Dead last. That's not a hyperbole. I was really last. I got the pity clap (ugh).
But, I did it. I followed through with the goal and I did it. And two months before my 30th birthday!
So, am I a runner? Eh, I don't know. I took a week off and have been running sporadically since then. I gave up the religious nature of my training and just wanted to do it for pleasure. Sadly, I didn't "catch the 5k bug" as most people do. I was mostly discouraged and disappointed with the race. But I've decided I'll run at least one more -- probably in the fall when it cools down, just to say that I finished a 5k running the whole time.
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