The Details:
Date 3/26/11
Distance 5K
Official time 34:54
Passed 6
Passed by 3
Temperature 26* F
Early in the week before my very first 5K ever, I took a look at the forecast. While the prior week it had been a sunny and comfortable 50* on Saturday, the Saturday of the race was predicted to be 30*. The closer it got to the race day, the lower that temperature dropped. Now, I am not a person particularly inclined to go running outdoors (though that is changing!), but I am definitely not a person inclined to go running outdoors in temperature below freezing. Thus, my workout wardrobe was lacking any appropriate clothing. I had no tights, no jacket, no hats or gloves, and no long-sleeved warm top to wear. Thus, the first thing I did last week before the race was go shopping at – where else? – The Running Room. Here’s what I bought:
Yes, this is a men’s top, and yes, I do realize how ridiculous this guy looks in this picture. I couldn’t find one online without a goofy looking dude wearing it. Sorry. 😦
I also borrowed light-weight gloves and an UnderArmor ear warmer from my mom.
Normally, I would suggest wearing any new items at least a few times before a race to make sure they fit properly and don’t cause you any unnecessary chafing or discomfort. But this time I didn’t follow my own advice and wore everything for the first time on race day. Fortunately, I didn’t have any troubles. I did liberally lubricate any chafe-prone areas with BodyGlide first though, just to make sure.
The day started off sunny but very brisk and cold. On my way to the site, the car thermometer read 27*. There was a nice 6 mph wind from the east as well, so I was definitely glad I bought all the new gear. I arrived at Soldiers Field around 8:15 am where there were probably 3 dozen people mingling, warming up, or just standing around. I received my race number and dutifully pinned it to the front of my shirt, then observed my competition.
I use “competition” very lightly here. I could definitely tell who was a serious runner and who wasn’t. While there were plenty of people just standing around in sweats and two-year-old running shoes, there were probably half a dozen people in technical running gear and the latest shoes who were stretching, warming up, and talking about the races they had done or were going to be doing (yes, I was eavesdropping).
I decided I had better warm up, as I hadn’t done enough of that prior to my triathlon last fall. I took the opportunity to spend the next 30 minutes running around the nearby track and stretching my poor calves.
Ten minutes prior to the start of the run, a volunteer led us across the bridge to the start of the race. She indicated that the fastest runners should line-up near the front, the walkers in the back, and everyone else in between. I choose a spot directly in front of the walkers, assuming that I would be one of the slowest people there. As we were waiting for the race to start, a 40ish woman next to me commented to the women around us that she would just stay near the back because she always ended up running alone anyways. Everyone laughed, but I secretly thought, “I think you’ll have some company this race!” and counted myself lucky to possibly have a running partner during the race.
When the gun went off and the race started, I was shocked at how quickly the runners in the front of the pack took off. It didn’t take very long before they were all long gone, and myself and the woman who had made the comment were all alone on the trail. I wasn’t sure what the etiquette was for a race like this. Were you supposed to talk? Were you supposed to leave everyone alone? How much talking was appropriate? How long should I run beside her before it was rude to have not said anything? Should I comment on her nice running hat?
Eventually I decided on continuing the joke she had made earlier.
“I’ll just run back here with you,” I laughed.
She smiled and nodded. I noticed she had a Garmin on her wrist and I wanted to know how long I should expect to be running next to her.
“What’s your pace?” I asked her.
“Usually 11 to 12 minute miles…. 13, 14, 15….,” she trailed off and laughed. “How about you?”
“About the same; 11 to 12 minute miles.”
She told me she was running the 10K. She said it was the first race for her this season. I told her it was mine too and that this was actually my first 5K ever. She congratulated me. We talked for a little bit about other races we had done and then we fell into a nice side-by-side pace. We passed a few people who had taken off ahead of us and had slowed to a walk. As we came up to the 1 mile mark she explained that she took walking breaks and wished me luck.
I was on my own.
Luckily, I was feeling good at this point. The pace was comfortable and I wanted to keep it that way. I could tell I was running faster than I normally did on a training run, so I knew that if I just kept a good even pace I could easily finish in under 36 minutes, which was my goal. I was getting warm so I tied my new jacket around my waist. There were a few volunteers along the race path and they all cheered me on as I passed them. Shortly after I passed the 1 mile mark I overtook a runner who looked to be about my age. I felt very proud of myself considering I hadn’t passed a single person during my triathlon! I passed another runner who had slowed to a crawl. Two people passed! Prior to the 2 mile mark I came up on another young woman who was going not too much slower than myself. I decided I wanted to pass her and used that as a goal to keep going strong. Soon I passed her. Another woman was ahead of me quite a ways down the path. She didn’t seem like she was going much faster than me and I knew that she had started ahead of me in the pack back at the race start. I set passing her as a goal. However, without a Garmin I didn’t know how far I had left in the race or what my current pace was. I didn’t want to push myself too soon and not have enough energy left over to finish the race strong. I imagined myself passing her only to have to slow down a half mile before the finish and get passed by her at the end. So I picked up my pace a bit, but didn’t race to pass her.
Turns out that maybe I should have increased my pace a little more than I did. When we approached the 3 mile mark I was still maybe 70 yards behind her. I sprinted to the finish but I didn’t have enough gas left in the tank to pass her at that point. When I crossed the finish line I congratulated her on her finish and told her that I had been trying to catch up to her for the past 3/4 mile but that she was too fast. I figured I would want someone to tell me that I was fast if I were her. I then checked on my official time, which was 34:54. Even with the fact that my time wasn’t completely accurate (I had started near the back of the pack, and I was told 34:26 as I approached the finish line – and there is no way it took me 30 seconds to run 30 feet), my race pace was much closer to 11 minute miles than 12 minute miles, which was a huge accomplishment for me.
I stuck around for a half an hour longer to cheer on the rest of the runners. A few minutes after I passed the finish the line, the first 10K runner finished. I waited to see my 10K friend pass the half-way point, but I never saw her. I hoped she ended up finishing, but I was getting cold and wanted to head home.
After I got home I still felt good, so amazingly, I went out for another run. This time I put 2 miles on the legs, for a total of 5 miles that morning. As I headed out the door I told my hubby that I was going for a “quick 2 mile run.” A few yards down the road I laughed at my turn of phrase. Was I really now one of those people who went for a “quick” 2 mile run instead of one of those people for whom a 2 mile run was more like a marathon?
I guess so.