Today Chris and I celebrated a national holiday the only way we know how: racing. It's becoming a small tradition to do a race for every big day, why make this one any different? I wouldn't be surprised if we get married and do a race the day of - nothing says romance like experiencing the highs and lows of race course together, then meeting each other at the end to talk about how we blew up halfway through, how we didn't know if we could finish, and who ticked us off on the journey to the finish line. And my favorite feeling in the world is first seeing the big "FINISH" sign and then seeing Chris standing right beside it waiting for me. It's the hilight of my race. That, and at the beginning seeing him take off at the gun and lead the race as long as he can....whatta hoot.
So today we completed the Ras na hEireann U.S.A. 5k, which was cool because it was all Irish themed (obviously) and they had bagpipe players and balloons and there were 4,000 runners - which is so many runners! The course was kind of crappy. Namingly because it went through Somerville...the least scenic area in the world and it was mostly uphill but I still had a P.R. of 21:25 (according to my Garmin). The course was actually closer to 3.16 miles instead of 3.1, which you wouldn't think makes a different but it's actually a difference of about 20 seconds. And when you're trying to PR, well, those 20-ish seconds might as well be an hour. So the race website is going to say 21:45 but I know in my heart, and on my Garmin tracking system, it was 21:25 - which is awesome because it wasn't too long ago I was at a 25 minute 5k, strugglebussing with the best of them. Now I'm strugglebussing with a whole new crowd - the sub-22 crowd.
The girls are skinnier, meaner, and have bigger calves. They're also all about 4 inches shorter than me. At least I could see the starting line above their heads.
The race went awesome, though. I got a little excited and crossed the mile 1 marker in 6:23 - feelin' a bit confident there, Katie? Who do you think you are? Molly Huddle? I realized a little earlier what I was doing but once you go out fast you can't really take it back, even if you slow back down you really only hurt yourself so I did my best to ignore the burning sensation in my stomach and the feeling of my legs slowly turning into lead and crossed the 2nd mile marker in 13:20 minutes.
That's about the time I became fully convinced that my stomach just might actually drop out of my butt.
But did Chrissie Wellington quit when she had 3 broken ribs, road rash covering half her body, and a hurt shoulder? No, she didn't. She was +10 minutes from the lead woman and came from behind on the run and crushed it. I might not be the 4-time Ironman World Champion and I might not have shattered every triathlon distance record in the book and I might not make other female pro-triathletes look like complete amateurs but damnit, I can hold a sub-7 minute pace for 3.1 miles!
So I powered up the hill past the man running who looked like this:
So today we completed the Ras na hEireann U.S.A. 5k, which was cool because it was all Irish themed (obviously) and they had bagpipe players and balloons and there were 4,000 runners - which is so many runners! The course was kind of crappy. Namingly because it went through Somerville...the least scenic area in the world and it was mostly uphill but I still had a P.R. of 21:25 (according to my Garmin). The course was actually closer to 3.16 miles instead of 3.1, which you wouldn't think makes a different but it's actually a difference of about 20 seconds. And when you're trying to PR, well, those 20-ish seconds might as well be an hour. So the race website is going to say 21:45 but I know in my heart, and on my Garmin tracking system, it was 21:25 - which is awesome because it wasn't too long ago I was at a 25 minute 5k, strugglebussing with the best of them. Now I'm strugglebussing with a whole new crowd - the sub-22 crowd.
The girls are skinnier, meaner, and have bigger calves. They're also all about 4 inches shorter than me. At least I could see the starting line above their heads.
The race went awesome, though. I got a little excited and crossed the mile 1 marker in 6:23 - feelin' a bit confident there, Katie? Who do you think you are? Molly Huddle? I realized a little earlier what I was doing but once you go out fast you can't really take it back, even if you slow back down you really only hurt yourself so I did my best to ignore the burning sensation in my stomach and the feeling of my legs slowly turning into lead and crossed the 2nd mile marker in 13:20 minutes.
That's about the time I became fully convinced that my stomach just might actually drop out of my butt.
But did Chrissie Wellington quit when she had 3 broken ribs, road rash covering half her body, and a hurt shoulder? No, she didn't. She was +10 minutes from the lead woman and came from behind on the run and crushed it. I might not be the 4-time Ironman World Champion and I might not have shattered every triathlon distance record in the book and I might not make other female pro-triathletes look like complete amateurs but damnit, I can hold a sub-7 minute pace for 3.1 miles!
So I powered up the hill past the man running who looked like this:
But I imagined he looked like this:
And was surprisingly able to keep my pace. Who knew that could be so effective!? It's like when I was a little kid swimming the 25m and my mom told me to pretend while I was up on the block that if I swam fast this would be waiting for me after the race:
No, mom, I didn't forget. I'm sure you were betting I was too young to remember that little fable. Oh, I remember. About 500 races later, many of which I've placed top 3, and I'm still waiting for that damn horse to meet me at the finish line. I'll send my therapy bill to you.
So crossing the finish line at 21:25 was a great feeling, until the lactic acid flooded in and I remembered how much pain I actually felt. For someone who's run 2 marathons, 3 half marathons, and over 20 triathlons, a little 5k should be absolutely no problem. It's not absolutely not a problem. I've been out of commission all day...well, actually, pretty much from the moment Chris (who finished a full 4 minutes before me) shuffled me out of the water line, handed me my finisher's medal (conveniently also a beer opener) and into the nearest bar and handed me a Harpoon. Thanks, honey! Foamy beer is exactly what I want 2 minutes after a race. And all these sweaty, smelly people jamming me into the corner of the bar? Lovin' it. It didn't bother me a bit it was about 100 degrees in the bar and I was surrounded by green people covered in beads and sparkles and everything nice.
Which is why I promptly finished my beer, like a boss, and shuffled right back outside. Boyfriend in tow.
....Probably looking like this:
So even though my stomach is still in knots - either from the hotwings I ate last night, the new breakfast bar I ate this morning, or the Harpoon post-race, it's all worth it. Because I'm now the proud owner of a sub-22 minute 5k time.
Which makes me do this
Feel like this
And, most importantly, and, obviously, look like this
Love love love,
me
Comments
Post a Comment