“Let’ Do a 10k” they said. “It’ll be fun they said.
I’ve run all my life. I ran to condition for hockey through college. I ran a marathon soon after graduating. I’ve run a few 5k and 10k’s over the years. I run a few times a week for a mile or two when I can. I like hills.
But I haven’t been feeling great the past few months and I’m not in very good condition. In addition, my back has been bothering me, as well. I waited up until last night, the night before the run to make a late decision of whether to spend the $50 bucks to register myself in the run. I figured, I could start the run and if I’m not feeling it, i could walk. My wife and most of the rest of our group had opted to walk it.
Race day. We got up early, took our golf cart down the hill to Avalon and lined up at the starting line. When I run, it normally takes me about 5 minutes of running and breathing to get my breath and into a comfortable stride. Those 5 minutes are usually not very fun. I would quit if I didn’t know that after those first few minutes things would get much easier.
So the run started at 8:20 am. I started my run. When I say “run”, think…shuffle, amble or struggle. I’m slow. And it’s ugly. This time, I got going and before I could get my full stride going, we ran into a steep mile long hill up the side of Catalina. I was not feeling it. At all. Then, as I was “running” up this hill, my wife and our friends, walking….passed me by. They were kind, but I felt the knife in the heart of my pride. Before long, my “run” turned into a walk.
So I walked, and continued to be passed. Passed by old people, by kids, mom’s with strollers. I was feeling ok. I was seriously not taking it personally or comparing myself. I was just being in the moment intending to have a positive experience.
The hill crested and I returned to running. I was doing ok. I listened to Lynne Twist’s “The Soul of Money” through my earbuds. I got reminders every five minutes from My RunKeeper app”. As I headed back down the hill to the town of Avalon, I was approaching the three mile, one hour mark. I told you I’m slow.
I’m doing the math in my head…I was about half way through the 10k and I thought to myself, “you know what…there’s not need to kill myself. I’ve done enough. I have nothing to prove. I need to take care of my self”. I completely talked my self into quitting half way through.
As I got into town, one of the volunteers waived me “that way”, back up a hill to follow the race course. I went up to him and I asked where the finish line was….he pointed straight ahead. I headed for the finish line. I was just about done.
I came in from the wrong direction, passed the finish line, but on the sidewalk, off to the side and I decided I would run up the block. I could here the announcer and see the other finishers as I headed up to the end of the block where I planned to turn around and join the finishers. Good plan. What could be the problem?
I got to the stop sign, did some quick calculations in my head. I wanted to cross the finish line. They announce your name. They take your picture. Everyone cheers you on. What could go wrong.
I did the calculations because I didn’t want to do “too well”. I figured it out and I assumed that the real runners would have done much better than 10 minute miles. I was working on 20 minute miles by this time. But I was cutting my distance in half.
So I waited a few minutes then started my jog down the street toward the finish line. They announced my name, they took my picture and then I hung around watching the rest of the finishers. It would be another hour and a half before Kyle and our friends would come in.
They finished, we went to lunch. One of hour friends, Cheri Quissenbury, finished 2nd among women for the 10k. We went to the awards ceremony to cheer her on while they gave Cheri her medal.
They then announced the men’s results by age classification. As the announcer called out the first 3 finishers of the 55-59 year old men, a sense of dread swept over me. I put my head on my friends shoulder as they announced the next age group. Mine. 60-64. I started to panic. I feared my time was too good.
He then announces the 1st place finisher in my age group and he calls my name. O. M. G.
My friends were doubled over in laughter. I gathered myself. I marched straight up to the podium, shook the announcer’s hand and said “there’s been a mistake”. I told him I only ran 1/2 the race and that my time was not accurate and that the next best time was the actual winner. He was very kind. He thanked me and said I was a “rare breed”.
We all had a good laugh. “Let’s do a 10k” they said. It’ll be fun they said.
