Rising up, back on the street

For the first time in over six months, I got to experience race day jitters this weekend.  Thankfully, these jitters were more out of excitement than nervousness...I was nearly giddy as I got closer and closer to the oceanfront early Saturday morning.  The earlybirds out for their morning stroll on the boardwalk may have wondered who that fruitcake was, riding her bike with coffee in hand and demeanor much too chipper for 7am on Saturday.  I practically sang a delightful "Good morning!" to anyone I made eye contact with as I rode from 1st to 24th Street on my beloved beach cruiser.  It was a perfect late September morning and I was racing again...what could be better?  

Seriously, what could be better?

I had a few goals in mind, starting with the most important:

1.  Have fun!  It had been way too long since I pinned a race bib on my shirt, and there was so much emotion surrounding that cold March morning that this time I felt nothing but happiness and gratitude.

2.  Run your own race.  My injury has taught me to stay within myself while running.  Sure, people could be passing me left and right, but that's their race.  My race is going on in my body and between my ears.  Let them pass, focus on you.

3.  Have no fear.  Don't be afraid to push it a little.  You had two solid weeks with hard, pain-free speed work leading up to this race.  Let 'er rip.  

Those three goals were paramount.  These next two would be icing on the cake:

1.  PR.  My last 8k was two and a half years ago and my PR (40:40) came two years before that and does not reflect the runner I've become since then.  No need to shatter that time, but beating it seemed entirely possible if I was having a good day.

2.  Finish time of 39:xx.  A finish under 40 minutes would be grounds for major celebration. 

I got to the start with plenty of time to loosen up, relax, and use the little girls' room as many times as I needed.  With no husband or kids there to worry about (they were all at soccer games), I was as relaxed as I think I've ever been before a race.  I think not putting any pressure on myself to have a stellar performance had a lot to do with that as well.  

I watched a few minutes of the 5k and was in awe of the assortment of people crossing the finish line under 20 minutes...tall and skinny dudes, shorter and bulkier dudes, adolescent dudes, and a couple of totally bad ass ladies.  It'll take some serious work, but I'd love to be in their company someday.  Feeling inspired, I hit the ladies' room one last time and got ready to start.

While I was watching the 5k, I heard the announcers say that gun time (not chip time) equals race time, so I made sure I was right up at the front of the pack to ensure the most accurate time for my own personal knowledge.  The gun went off and we were underway.  I kept to the side to stay out of the way of any speed demons coming up behind me and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.  I always find it hard to tell how fast I'm going out of the gate, and I let myself fall back and settle in to my pace while the front runners gained some distance ahead of me...if I was keeping up with them, I was starting out way too fast!  

For the first half mile, it was me and the guys.  There were two women ahead of me that I could see, and by the time we turned around to head south, two more had passed me.  Tempted to try to keep up with them, I had to remind myself to let them go.  There was a lot of race left and the last two miles were into some pretty stiff wind.  With perfect timing, I spotted Kristy from Breath of Sunshine pushing her stroller up to the curb just as I was running by.  She was quick to the draw and managed to get this photo of me gleefully running by:

 Yes, I really was that happy.  And then that other smiling woman behind me crept up and passed me.  But I was ok with it.  Really.  As far as I knew, I was the 6th woman as we approached the 3 mile mark of my first race post-injury...20 more people could have passed me and I would've been ok with it!  I've never ever in my own personal history of running known how many women were ahead of me, so just being able to keep count was pretty thrilling.  I thought of just holding on for 2 more miles...

By the time I saw Kristy again near the 4 mile mark, she told me I was 5th.  I don't remember when I passed that happy lady in black, but I must have at some point if Kristy's count was right.  I believe I told her to shut up and kept on running.  I got to 17th Street and was counting down the blocks to the finish at 24th.  I picked up my pace a bit at 22nd and then gave it my all for the last block.  I crossed the finish and stopped my watch.

37:45

Grinning from ear to ear, I collected my post-race snacks and poured myself a beer.  I enjoyed the warm sunshine while I stretched and sipped.



While chatting with a friend, I spotted someone in an Ithaca Cross Country hat and was drawn to him like a magnet.  Turns out he and his wife graduated a year before me and have lived in VB for several years now.  They had their two daughters in the stroller, complete with Ithaca XC t-shirts.  Always incredible to run into fellow Bombers way down here in Virginia, even if it never fails to make me long for a trip up north.  

Somewhere during our conversation, it dawned on me - if I was really the 5th woman overall, there's a really good chance I placed in my age group.  A few minutes later, they posted the results on the bath house wall:

 I'm pretty sure I squealed.  Out loud.  But I don't care.  This was too much.  I was elated just starting this race, so to finish 1st in my age group had me over the moon.  I absolutely had to stick around for the awards, so I hauled ass on my bike to feed the meter where my car was parked to avoid getting a ticket, then hauled ass back up to 24th Street.  I finally caught up with Kristy, and I got a little choked up when I saw her.  Before I even met her in person, she was cheering me on and offering support throughout my marathon training and injury.  I met up with her several times throughout the summer for sunrise runs on the boardwalk where she showed me empathy and encouragement.  Her own comeback story this past winter has always been a source of inspiration to me during this tricky time of rest and rehabilitation.  It was only fitting that she was the friendly face I saw on the race course and the first one to celebrate this huge milestone with me in person.  I am forever grateful.  



I feel this race closes the "Injured Runner" chapter and is freeing me up mentally to get back to working hard.  I will continue as planned to follow my training plan loosely, listening to my body and keeping it in good running (ha ha) order.  I love having a few races on my calendar, and will be grateful for every chance I get to be at the starting line.  

And in case you didn't know...

...by the looks of my coveted trophy, King Neptune and Jesus were brothers.