So I finished my second official 5K yesterday. (Yep, I said second.) That’s 3.1 miles to those of you who, like me, wonder why runners insist on using the metric system. The beauty of it is not so much my finish time, which is mediocre at best, but the fact that I shaved almost four minutes off my finish time from the first one I did back in May.
Granted, I still can’t run more than a quarter of a mile without stopping to walk for a bit. But I averaged 13:37 per mile (as opposed to 14:49 per mile the last time). And I’m really proud of that. I didn’t finish last in my age group and I didn’t feel like I was going to die. Although I was concerned I was going to run out of steam when I took off running for the last tenth of a mile and just about collapsed before I hit the finish line.
Plus, once I realized coworker/friend/runner extraordinaire Mike was watching me and cheering, I figured walking was no longer an option if I ever wanted to show my face at work again. So I did what any self-respecting woman would do in such a situation, I stuck my tongue out at him and kept right on running. I’m still not sure if I impressed Mike, but I impressed myself — and that’s what counts.
Let’s just not mention that a 76-year-old woman finished about ten seconds before me. I’m not faulting her for that. I think it’s awesome. But I don’t think anyone can get over the embarrassment of getting beaten by someone’s granny.
In the end, it’s all worth it. I’m beyond the phase where I think I’m never going to be able to run a mile, even though I’m not quite there yet. I am determined to run the entire 3.1 miles next time. Right now I’m shooting for a race in August.
So watch out granny. I’m gaining on you. You’re going to have to step up your game.
I’ll let you know how that turns out.