I just ran my first race of the season. Here’s a recollection of some of the feelings I had and thoughts that went through my head as I ran.
My toddler daughter wakes me up . It’s 6:30 on a Saturday morning. I still haven’t committed to it yet in my mind, but somehow I know I’ll go through with it. There is a 5K taking place a few miles down the road from where I live, and I have studiously avoided pre-registering for it. My knee has been bothering me, I’m not in great shape, maybe my husband will be unable to watch the baby. You name it, I’ve got the excuse. Yet the thought of skipping it is just something I can’t fathom. My husband sleeps till 8:30, then awakes with a start. “Aren’t we going to the race?” he asks. “Yes,” I say, “we are.” Then I make another trip to the bathroom.

We get to the race with plenty of time to spare. I start my warmup as my husband puts the baby in her jogging stroller.  For once, he’ll be pushing her, and at a walking pace, instead of the norm, which is me pushing her as I run. I jog for about ten minutes, passing lots of familiar faces as I go. I spot a public restroom and make a dash for it. “Why do you get so nervous?” I ask myself silently. “Noone else cares how you do. This is only a fun 5K, not the Olympics.” Still, there’s something about running in public that make me want to do my best, even when I know I’m not in great shape.

I keep jogging, noticing lots of aches and pains that I haven’t before. Maybe I’m injured and can’t run! C’mon, Robin, suck it up. I keep going. After jogging, I stretch, then do several striders. I can feel my game face coming on. God, this feels good. I see our region’s best female runner and it somehow inspires me. Just watching her run (usually only briefly, from behind) makes me feel good. I know I can’t expect to beat her, at least not now. But I love the thought that maybe, someday, I can.

OK, it’s time to line up for the start. I do a few jumps in place and look around. I feel comfortable with my place in the pack. Not so far in front that I’m in danger of being trampled, not so far back that I’ll have to pass too many people. I get my watch ready and wait for the gun. There it is- we’re off! I feel pretty good, I feel fast but comfortable. After a minute or two, I pass my husband and baby. They wave and cheer. I watch the leaders disappear but hold myself back from going after them. I know my limitations. Geez, I’m getting tired already- why did I stay up so late last night? I feel like I’ve been running forever- where’s that first mile marker? Maybe they don’t have it posted- I must have passed it. Wait- there it is. I glance at my watch. Wow! About two minutes faster than I’d expected. Now I’m inspired. I settle into a nice groove and try to maintain my pace.

The course is an out-and-back, and after a while I encounter the leaders, who’ve already made the turnaround. I cheer them on, grateful that the turnaround is near. The second mile goes faster, yet my split shows I’ve slowed down considerably. Shoot! Better try to hang on during that last mile. Only a little over a mile to go, Robin. Hang in there. I pass my husband and daughter again- they tell me I look good. I’m getting close to the finish now. There’s a downhill leading up to the finish line, so I try to pour it on. I can see the clock above the finish line. Hey, it’s pretty good. I make a last attempt at a burst of speed, and then, cross the line. Aaahhh! I did it!

I start my jogdown. I feel happy, tired, relieved. My pesky knee doesn’t bother me at all, and didn’t during the race. I know I’ll feel sore and tight tomorrow, but right now I don’t care. I just ran the first race of the year and I feel good. I’m already thinking about next weekend- is there a race I can sign up for? I’m ready.