No, I'm not congratulating myself. That's the name of the 10k race I ran on Sunday.
Despite my crossed fingers and fervent wishing it was raining. Bummer way to start the morning. Waking was tough enough already since the night before was exhausting. We battled record crowds at the state fair and stayed late (for us) to watch a friend's son's band. Totally worth it! Awesome show. And our boys were agreeable and co-operative which means we all enjoyed ourselves.
But I woke up tired and not at all enthused about running in the rain. My husband wisely advised me not to psych myself out before I even began. I was concerned though about what to wear. I haven't run competitively since high school which means I haven't run in the rain since high school. (Why run in the rain if you don't have to? Especially when the Y is only a mile away.) I have a lightweight rain jacket, but it's not fitted and doesn't breathe well. However, I wanted something waterproof to wear over my ipod. I wasn't sure how it would hold up in the rain. Not only did I not want to ruin it, but I wasn't entirely convinced wet headphones wouldn't fry my brain. I settled on wearing the coat because I knew if I overheated I could take it off and tie it around my waist. I made the right choice. I did end up removing it while running, but I was grateful for it while warming up.
I wouldn't call waiting around for the race to start fun necessarily, but it was entertaining. There was live music and lots to see like ironic t-shirt slogans (my favorite:
This seemed like a good idea 3 months ago), dogs in rain gear, and men in tutus (the race was a breast cancer research fundraiser and technically for women only, but men were allowed to participate as long as they donned something pink). And there were dozens of women wearing baseball hats and garbage bags. Bizarre at first sight, but when I thought about it very smart; caps don't hinder your vision as much as a hood and the bag is light weight and easily handed off, wadded up in a pocket, or discarded in a trash can at any point during the race. Lesson learned. Finally, I chatted up the ladies in front of me in line for the bathroom because they appeared lean, relaxed, seasoned runners. They both had earphones slung around their necks and assuaged my fears about using my ipod by swearing they had never had their brains fried.
Despite all my worrying I loved every second of the race. I truly did. The cheering crowds, the National Anthem, the water station sponsored by the cute "Single Guys" trying to get numbers, the cops stopping traffic for us, the feeling of sisterhood, and the satisfaction of completing a goal added up to a fantastically good time. The running seemed effortless. The course was more uphill than I expected, but lots of downhill too and I had no trouble keeping a brisk pace. In fact, I beat my personal best by a full two minutes. My official time was 55:49 which means I ran 9 minute miles! I placed 73 out of 792 so I was in the top 10%. The 2.5 scones I ate the night before provided the perfect carb-laden jet fuel.
The best part was having all my boys there to congratulate me at the finish line and then whisk me away home in our warm, dry car to a long, hot shower. After dropping me off they left again to meet up with my parents abandoning me in an empty house. An utterly quiet empty house. I slipped into my comfiest yoga pants and my fleeciest sweatshirt and snuggled up on the couch with my Snuggie and the other half of that scone to watch Project Runway on TiVo. All by myself. With no one begging for a bite of my treat, no one whining or crying or fighting in the background, no one trying to wrestle me, and no one crawling in my lap expecting a back scratching session. Unwinding alone = stay-at-home mom heaven.
I'm already looking forward to next year. I'll be upgrading to the half-marathon. You heard it here first, people.
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PS When I registered for the race I had to pick a shirt size. I was warned they ran small and advised to order a size bigger than I normally wear. As it turns out the shirts actually run a little big and the medium shirt I got is larger than I'd like. While I was running hubby tried to exchange it for me, but they were out of smalls. They did, however, have a bunch of extra-larges. Hmm... wonder why that would be? Anyway, the lady felt badly so she gave me a shirt from a different race to make up for it. Karma, baby. Last year when I ran the Y Fun Run 5k there was a mix up and I never got a shirt at all. Now I can proudly wear my Michelob Half-Marathon shirt and everyone will think I can run 13 miles drunk. Cool.
