At the beginning you're just in a big crowd of people. I was chatting with another runner whom I had known briefly in college. I asked her how long she thought she'd take, and she was telling me she thought somewhere between 30 and 35 minutes, and while she was talking we heard "Go!" and we said, "Well, here we go," and that was the end of that conversation. I thought, If she wants to take more than 30 minutes, I need to be going faster than her. So I did.
It takes a while for a big crowd of people to get going. You hope the fast people are in the front and the slow ones at the back, but in between everyone is all mixed up. I hopped up and down a bit, looking around me and trying to figure out how to move forward. There were people all around me, a slow, cramped jog. And then I gradually became aware that people were passing me from behind. How were they doing it? I watched a tall thin man — he would jog in place with respect to the crowd, and then a spot would open up and he would sort of leap forward into it, and so on to the next and to the next. Okay, I get it. I waited for a spot to open up near me and then stepped forward into it. And then to the next, and then to the next. I was moving forward in the negative space of the crowd.
After a while it opened up a bit and I could really run. Pacing? No idea. I recalled a physical memory of the treadmill runs, 6.1 mph, and tried to match that. "Okay then, here I am, running. I'll just keep a steady pace." And then I looked forward. There were, of course, a lot of people running in front of me, a crowd that went on past the next turn where I couldn't see. Still, I wondered if I could sort of pick them off, one by one. Why not try? I picked up the pace and ran past the person in front of me. She didn't seem to mind. I slowed back to my original pace and she didn't try to pass me. Could I pick off another one? I tried again, and passed the next person. One at a time, I picked them off for a while.
Mark had told me that the adrenaline would get me going, that it would be exciting. I'd said to him, "What is this adrenaline you speak of?" I didn't expect any, and there wasn't any excitement, really. The 5K was a problem to be solved. The people around me complicated things; they got in my way, for instance, they made noises that interrupted my thoughts. They were also markers ahead of me, each one something I could try to pass.
Then I got distracted because the course started to head up a hill. Hills? They didn't say there were going to be any hills! Not a big hill, but I didn't much want to run up it. I decided to pretend the hill wasn't happening. After I got to the top and started to run down, I decided to suddenly re-discover the hill. This is a rest! I told myself. You're not really running! Just swinging your legs while you coast down. Faster!
At the first mile, a volunteer was calling out the times. "Nine sixteen, nine eighteen, nine twenty," she called as I ran past. Okay then. I wanted to do between nine and ten minutes per mile. Right on schedule. I ran a little farther and reflected: Mark's probably about half done by now, if he's doing well. I hope so. He's half done, and I'm a third done. That's about right.
I could hear my breathing, hard but steady.
A man passed me, hawked and spit on the ground. Yuck. This annoyed me. I passed a man who was walking, and later he passed me running, and then I passed him walking again. A woman passed me carrying a water bottle in one hand. I thought it would be a pain to carry a bottle of water.
As the time passed, I grabbed at whatever I could think of that could motivate me to keep going. The race course was supposed to go through a "Nature Area" in the third mile. I spent some time thinking, "Gee, it'll really be nice to see that Nature Area!" There was a turn that brought me into full squinting sunlight. I tried to run faster because that would mean I'd be out of the sun sooner. I got stuck behind a team of four people in matching shirts. I thought: If I pass one of them, I might as well pass them all. I sped up and got by.
There was a water station about halfway through, littered with discarded cups. I didn't take any water because I was only going to be running for 30 minutes and I was afraid that it would make me break stride. If I started walking, maybe I wouldn't run again. I got hot in my fleece. A woman ran past me struggling to tie her own fleece by the sleeves around her waist. I thought I could take it off, but then I might break stride, and will I be able to start running again? I unzipped it and kept running. The flapping fleece bothered me but I consoled myself that it would be flapping more if I had tied it around my waist; this way I didn't have to worry that it would loosen and fall off.
Off the road and onto a narrow path, only a bit wider than single file. Okay then, I guess I just stay in place behind the person in front of me. It's a comfortable pace. But… I could run on the grass berm and pass that person if I wanted to. Well, let's try it. So. I did. Passed a few more that way.
Two miles. I began to think about what Mark had called the sprint to the finish. I don't need to sprint, I said to myself. This is a good pace. I can just keep going at this pace and do fine. But then I thought: Mark will be watching me at the end. He will be pleased if I really do sprint at the end. I could do it just for him to see me trying hard. I don't need to or want to, but I could do it, just for those few seconds.
We ran across a parking lot and along a garage and I was pretty sure that we were near the end, one more turn. And there was Mark up ahead waving. I thought he was going to be at the end with the camera? I waved a little bit but stopped because I thought it might make me break stride. I turned the corner and he was calling, "Go! You've got it! You can do it!" And that got me thinking about how dumb the things are that people yell when they're cheering. Of course I've got it, does he think I'm going to pass out between here and the chute? Of course I'm going to "go," does he think I'm going to stop now? Of course I can do it, look, I'm running faster and faster and passing three more people and my shoe with its hidden RFID tag is landing on the carpet and now I'm done, so there!
bearing blog 