Chickamauga Chase 5K
So, Saturday I actually got to participate in a race again. It was short, only a 5K, but to me it was just as long as a half marathon.
Many of the others running were wearing stickers to show support for Boston.
Two women at the start line that were running across the start line just behind and to the right of me were screaming "BOSTON!!" to the spectators. I kid you not, I nearly started sobbing right then and there. I had to try and just concentrate on running. Breath, don't think, just run.
I got my emotions back under control and started to enjoy myself. I set a slow, easy pace. I'm out of shape and the past week's running had me realizing how much fitness I'd lost. I wanted to be sure I didn't have to walk any of this little run, and so "slow is beautiful" was my mantra. It wasn't long before I found some folks to chat with and keep my mind off the distance and speed, and soon we were half done and they stopped to grab some water. I kept going. I watched the other runners, most listening to iPods and seeming oblivious to anything else. A few were breaking down and walking. I just kept trotting. There's not a lot of hills on this route, but when we were about to hit the last one I found a girl walking and coaxed her into trotting up it with me. It kept me going though I can't say she was grateful.
As I rounded to the finish line, I had to remind myself I couldn't run out the last 1/2 mile. I had to wait till a reasonable distance to try pushing for that last bit of energy. I turned onto that last stretch though, and I stretched, thinking I could overtake the girl just in front of me. I was wrong. A moment after I started to push a little harder, she sprinted off in front of me. I did not have that long a hard sprint in my lungs, so I settled for my moderately increased pace and finished strong.
I have to say, though short going and doing it was quite cathartic. I needed it. Like air to breath and water to drink.
Many of the others running were wearing stickers to show support for Boston.
Two women at the start line that were running across the start line just behind and to the right of me were screaming "BOSTON!!" to the spectators. I kid you not, I nearly started sobbing right then and there. I had to try and just concentrate on running. Breath, don't think, just run.
I got my emotions back under control and started to enjoy myself. I set a slow, easy pace. I'm out of shape and the past week's running had me realizing how much fitness I'd lost. I wanted to be sure I didn't have to walk any of this little run, and so "slow is beautiful" was my mantra. It wasn't long before I found some folks to chat with and keep my mind off the distance and speed, and soon we were half done and they stopped to grab some water. I kept going. I watched the other runners, most listening to iPods and seeming oblivious to anything else. A few were breaking down and walking. I just kept trotting. There's not a lot of hills on this route, but when we were about to hit the last one I found a girl walking and coaxed her into trotting up it with me. It kept me going though I can't say she was grateful.
As I rounded to the finish line, I had to remind myself I couldn't run out the last 1/2 mile. I had to wait till a reasonable distance to try pushing for that last bit of energy. I turned onto that last stretch though, and I stretched, thinking I could overtake the girl just in front of me. I was wrong. A moment after I started to push a little harder, she sprinted off in front of me. I did not have that long a hard sprint in my lungs, so I settled for my moderately increased pace and finished strong.
I have to say, though short going and doing it was quite cathartic. I needed it. Like air to breath and water to drink.