I ran a 5K
I ran a 5K on Saturday, which is not something I'd recommend to anybody. Sure, there is the personal satisfaction of accomplishing a goal, the admiration you get from others and of course the benefits of healthy exercise, but there is an important factor about 5Ks that people often overlook: it's a freaking long run.
Now, I know that several of my readers have run marathons, and the rest of you probably know people that have, so you're scoffing when I say that a 5K is a "long run." And that's exactly the problem. A 5K is short enough that nobody is too impressed that you did it, and yet long enough that there's a legitimate chance you'll collapse in a puddle of vomit.
The particular 5K that I ran was the SkirtChaser 5K of Raleigh, in which the girls all wear skirts, get a three-minute head start, and then get chased down by the guys. In theory, anyway -- in actuality, girls almost always win, or so I hear. After the race, all the runners who can stand to drink hang out in a beer garden and flirt with each other while a cover band plays "Hotel California." All the single runners stick a picture of a girl in a skirt somewhere on their bodies to show that they're on the prowl.
My girlfriend talked me into running the SkirtChaser, and I agreed because I'm a great boyfriend and a sucker for challenges,* and also because Jess doesn't wear skirts that often and I need to take every chance I get. I had also heard of the "Couch to 5K Challenge," a running plan that is supposed to get you ready to run a 5K in two months. I decided to do my own version of the "Couch to 5K Challenge," in which I got up off the couch one Saturday afternoon and attempted to run a 5K. I should write a book about my plan.
*Or a competitive asshole, depending on how you look at it.
When the race began, Jess took off with the rest of the ladies and I got into place for the men's start. I had to adjust the volume of my iPod so that Common Rider would drown out the blaring of Pink's "I'm Comin Out." As we lined up, the PA announcer asked the runners who thought they could run six-minute miles to head to the front of the line. Right there, toeing the line, were two guys dressed in the orange and blue tuxedos from Dumb & Dumber, complete with top hats in the 85-degree heat. As it turned out, I passed those guys about 100 yards down the road, stumbling by the curb drenched in sweat.
Unfortunately, the format of the race and my competitive nature were not good for my racing technique. Right off the starting line, my main thought was "Gotta catch Jess! Gotta catch Jess!" and I set my pace to match. At about the mile and a half mark, I finally caught up to Jess -- at which point I realized that I was completely exhausted. As it turns out, you can't sprint a 5K.**
**Well, maybe YOU can. I can't.
So I jogged alongside Jess for about a minute, and then picked up the pace again and went on my way. I still wasn't moving very fast, though. If you had my mile splits for the race, they probably started around 7 minutes and ended around 10. It didn't help that the course was incredibly hilly, too. It started uphill, ended uphill, and I'm pretty sure I got the bends somewhere in between. The final uphill stretch was the worst of all, and I didn't manage to sprint to the finish as I had intended. A slightly-faster jog was all I could pull off.
My final time was 25:38, an 8:15 mile pace. At the beginning of the race, they told us that over 1000 people were participating, but the results page has only 715 names on it. I assume this means that about 300 people failed to finish, which is kind of astonishing to me. At any rate, I came in 226th place out of those 1000+ (counting the 3:00 head start that the girls enjoyed), and Jess came in 363rd. Not too shabby for a couple of first-timers. Of course, the guy that came in first ran the whole thing in 14:43, a 4:44 mile pace. I hate that guy.
At the finish line, they were giving away Chipotle burritos. Now, Chipotle is one of my favorite foods in the world, but a steak burrito with hot salsa might be the worst possible thing you could give a bunch of runners who had just killed themselves running three miles. I suppose it would have been worse if they had given us the burritos before we ran, but not by much. Of course, I ate my burrito anyway.
Jess and I wandered around for a bit trying to recover our equilibrium. We even briefly dared the beer garden, which another runner accurately described as a "sweaty single orgy." I grabbed some free samples of energy drinks like XOOD and Solixir, which -- and I can't stress this enough -- are absolutely dreadful. Never, ever try XOOD. Just don't.
About 15 minutes after we finished the race (and five minutes after I finished my burrito), it started to pour, so Jess and I got going. The next day I called my parents and found out that my cousin and her husband had just ran a marathon, which is kind of the quintessential bit of running a 5K: it's pretty cool, but one of your friends will always do something cooler that weekend.
Now, I know that several of my readers have run marathons, and the rest of you probably know people that have, so you're scoffing when I say that a 5K is a "long run." And that's exactly the problem. A 5K is short enough that nobody is too impressed that you did it, and yet long enough that there's a legitimate chance you'll collapse in a puddle of vomit.
The particular 5K that I ran was the SkirtChaser 5K of Raleigh, in which the girls all wear skirts, get a three-minute head start, and then get chased down by the guys. In theory, anyway -- in actuality, girls almost always win, or so I hear. After the race, all the runners who can stand to drink hang out in a beer garden and flirt with each other while a cover band plays "Hotel California." All the single runners stick a picture of a girl in a skirt somewhere on their bodies to show that they're on the prowl.
My girlfriend talked me into running the SkirtChaser, and I agreed because I'm a great boyfriend and a sucker for challenges,* and also because Jess doesn't wear skirts that often and I need to take every chance I get. I had also heard of the "Couch to 5K Challenge," a running plan that is supposed to get you ready to run a 5K in two months. I decided to do my own version of the "Couch to 5K Challenge," in which I got up off the couch one Saturday afternoon and attempted to run a 5K. I should write a book about my plan.
*Or a competitive asshole, depending on how you look at it.
When the race began, Jess took off with the rest of the ladies and I got into place for the men's start. I had to adjust the volume of my iPod so that Common Rider would drown out the blaring of Pink's "I'm Comin Out." As we lined up, the PA announcer asked the runners who thought they could run six-minute miles to head to the front of the line. Right there, toeing the line, were two guys dressed in the orange and blue tuxedos from Dumb & Dumber, complete with top hats in the 85-degree heat. As it turned out, I passed those guys about 100 yards down the road, stumbling by the curb drenched in sweat.
Unfortunately, the format of the race and my competitive nature were not good for my racing technique. Right off the starting line, my main thought was "Gotta catch Jess! Gotta catch Jess!" and I set my pace to match. At about the mile and a half mark, I finally caught up to Jess -- at which point I realized that I was completely exhausted. As it turns out, you can't sprint a 5K.**
**Well, maybe YOU can. I can't.
So I jogged alongside Jess for about a minute, and then picked up the pace again and went on my way. I still wasn't moving very fast, though. If you had my mile splits for the race, they probably started around 7 minutes and ended around 10. It didn't help that the course was incredibly hilly, too. It started uphill, ended uphill, and I'm pretty sure I got the bends somewhere in between. The final uphill stretch was the worst of all, and I didn't manage to sprint to the finish as I had intended. A slightly-faster jog was all I could pull off.
My final time was 25:38, an 8:15 mile pace. At the beginning of the race, they told us that over 1000 people were participating, but the results page has only 715 names on it. I assume this means that about 300 people failed to finish, which is kind of astonishing to me. At any rate, I came in 226th place out of those 1000+ (counting the 3:00 head start that the girls enjoyed), and Jess came in 363rd. Not too shabby for a couple of first-timers. Of course, the guy that came in first ran the whole thing in 14:43, a 4:44 mile pace. I hate that guy.
At the finish line, they were giving away Chipotle burritos. Now, Chipotle is one of my favorite foods in the world, but a steak burrito with hot salsa might be the worst possible thing you could give a bunch of runners who had just killed themselves running three miles. I suppose it would have been worse if they had given us the burritos before we ran, but not by much. Of course, I ate my burrito anyway.
Jess and I wandered around for a bit trying to recover our equilibrium. We even briefly dared the beer garden, which another runner accurately described as a "sweaty single orgy." I grabbed some free samples of energy drinks like XOOD and Solixir, which -- and I can't stress this enough -- are absolutely dreadful. Never, ever try XOOD. Just don't.
About 15 minutes after we finished the race (and five minutes after I finished my burrito), it started to pour, so Jess and I got going. The next day I called my parents and found out that my cousin and her husband had just ran a marathon, which is kind of the quintessential bit of running a 5K: it's pretty cool, but one of your friends will always do something cooler that weekend.