Saturday night was the first Full Moon in June (in Tribune!) 5K/10K run. The evening started off splendidly with a lasagna feed at the Burger Bar, one of our fine local eating establishments. Second helpings of pasta and garlic bread were much enjoyed, as was the small ice cream cone I shared with my two-year-old. By 8 o'clock we were lined up and ready to go for the Family 2-mile Run/Walk, which took us all around the east side of town. Ann was with me (no Jonathan this time, he and Thing One are on vacation) and we pushed Thing Two in the ladybug trailer. The first family to cross the finish line won a family movie pass to the local theater. We weren't gunning for that - just kept up a brisk walking pace and wound up finishing in 27 minutes, which means we were walking at 4.4 mph.
We had a respite then, during which we filled our water bottles (and drank them dry, and filled them again) and enjoyed some conversation and company. At about 9:15 we loaded the little one back into the ladybug, gave her a "blanklet," and started pushing her around and around (and around and around) the parking lot in the dark. She fell asleep just in time for us to park the trailer with the race attendants. We confirmed that they had my cell phone number, and headed to the start line.
Now, I mentioned that I ran 6.2 miles by accident. I will just say here that I obeyed my doctor's instructions - apart from stretching and walking I had not done ANY exercise for the past 7 weeks. I knew going back into running that I'd probably be able to knock out 3 miles okay. Well, Miss Ann is training with me for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, which means in 3 weeks she and I will walk a marathon and a half in 2 days up in the Rockies. They send out training schedules for this walk, which say that we should be walking about 12 miles at a time by now. Great, sure, I have nothing else to do for 3 hours! :-P So anyhow, she reasoned that we could run partway, and walk the rest, and together with the 2-mile walk we would boost our mileage for the day. (Ann, you see, was under the impression she could not run one mile, let alone 3 or 6, though I knew otherwise. That is her story to tell.)
We lined up, somebody said a prayer, and just as Lesa turned around to say something to me the gun went off! OH! So we ran. It felt so good. I got winded at the beginning, as I always do when starting a long run. I'm comfortable enough with that pattern that I didn't think, "Oh, no, I can't make it." I just thought, "Right, I remember this, the first few blocks always get me out of breath but I'll settle down pretty soon." And sure enough I did. The miles ticked by; I had decided ahead of time to break it up a little bit by doing the "run-a-mile, walk-a-minute" pattern and this definitely made it easier. Also, Ann and I compared knowledge of 80's song lyrics to pass the time (she knows way more than I do). As we got about halfway through mile 4, my "I'm not a runner!" pal decided she couldn't keep my slow pace. I decided I liked my slow pace, so she took off and I trotted along behind. Now, when I say "behind," I do mean it sincerely. There was nobody running with me, nor was there anyone running behind me. I was alone on a country road just takin' my time.
This part of the run will probably remain in my memory as one of my favorite running experiences ever. No matter how much longer I do this or how many other races I finish, I don't think it gets better than that. To the north, on my right, was a large field that shone smooth and golden. Above the field, thick dark gray Kansas thunderheads loomed, with a lightning show it seemed the clouds were putting on just for me. To the south, the clouds broke open to allow the bright full moon to light my way. I had brought a head lamp but quickly realized that I could see better, and enjoy the run more, if I got rid of it and just ran with the moon instead. My feet in their new flat shoes connected brilliantly with the road; when I stepped on a larger piece of gravel my foot, rather than turning at the ankle, would just sort of roll around it. My left knee felt as healthy as my right. I knew I was moving more slowly than anyone who calls herself a runner ought to, but I felt wonderful. And without even thinking, I started to praise God in my heart for the beauty of the Earth, for the glory of the skies.
All this was too good to last long, of course. I was the final runner, and there were support vehicles stationed at each mile marker (3 of them - the course was out-and-back). During my final mile, the vehicles started coming back along the road behind me. I pulled over to the soft shoulder and waved them to go by me, but they didn't. The last vehicle to join them was the big fire truck with its obnoxiously bright lights that completely trashed the heavenly moonlight I had been enjoying. What's more, they thought it was fun/amusing/something to run the sirens at me as I ran. When I finally accepted that they WEREN'T going to pass me, I looked up and found a couple stars that had broken through the clouds in front of me, in the western sky. I kept my focus on them and did my best to ignore the headlights, sirens, and whoops behind me. I also realized that yes, in fact I do still know all the words to Javert's anthem "Stars" from Les Miserables.
It occurred to me at some point that when I last ran a 5K back in September in the Garden of the Gods, my time was 42 minutes. Now, that was at a higher altitude and with considerably more in the way of what I think they call "hills." But this was twice as far and coming out of surgery and an almost-2-month hiatus, so I figured I'd be happy to keep the same pace as that. As I approached the clock, I could see 1:2-:--. I couldn't tell if the third number was a 3 or a 6. One hour twenty-four minutes would be the number I needed to beat. I got closer - it was a 3! I had to come in just under 1:24! So I put on the gas (or "added oil," as the Chinese say) and vroomed toward the crowd. (Nobody realizes this, but the last runner is the one who gets the most cheering.) As I whooped my way in, they re-directed me over to the, um, actual finish line, which I crossed with 15 seconds to spare. That made my clock time 1:23:45, a time I am pleased with both for its numeracy as well as for its goal-beating.
I was awarded a bronze medal for being the 3rd woman in my age group to finish the race. Ann got the silver, finishing 7 minutes ahead of me and proving once again that I am RIGHT. My Scuttlebutt pals Lesa and Rechelle, who ran the 5K, got gold and bronze respectively in their age group. With all of us getting medals, and the beautiful night, and just finishing the race, I think I was about 10 feet tall.
