Grand Blue Mile

Pre-Race: Smiling Like a Chump

Yesterday I ran my first road race.  It was a whopping--no, make that GRAND--mile at The Grand Blue Mile in DSM.  It was scary, it was fun, it was an incredibly big deal for me. 
Dave & I decided to do the race late last week & then promptly were besot by the plague.  Prior to being sick, my goal was to run the whole mile without stopping or walking--a first in my life.  With my current 5K training consisting of intervals (Dave says runners call them fartleks--no joke!), I've been covering more than that distance with running & walking, but I haven't worked up to running that long at a stretch yet.  My thought had been that it would be nice to do a small race prior to Dam to Dam, but with intestinal trauma a mere two days in my past, I nearly backed out last night. 

But, I DIDN'T back out...a victory that should be celebrated in its own right.  Old Sara...well, there's not even a comparison.  Old Sara just wouldn't have even been registered.  My only prior brush with anything resembling running a mile were the 1980's Presidential Fitness Tests.  I think I managed to finagle my way out of the mile all but twice in my educational career & if memory serves me, I never finished the mile in less than 20 minutes.

Clearly a Genuine Action Shot

I'm sure I committed about a million running etiquette faux pas & I don't have a grasp on what my time means in running terms, but I do know this, it meant everything to me to be able to run the whole thing, with my husband, as a peer.  And yes, I cried...TWICE...this is getting to be a disturbing trend. 

My first tear fest was about a quarter mile in when we passed my BL crush, Rebecca Meyer, spurring on one of her Whip It 180 contestants.  We had seen her earlier in the evening when we were walking to the starting line & I wish more than anything that I had stopped & said hi.  Meeting her is becoming an obsession & I'd like to get it out of my system before I start camping out in her bushes & fishing her used straws out of food court trash cans.  I just feel grateful to her for being vulnerable & genuine & I want to say thank you...& take a picture.

My second tear fest was at the finish line, as I expected.  I put on a little burst of speed for the last 0.2 that felt a little ridiculous...even at the time I remember thinking "what is this business all about?"  Turns out it was all about getting me in "sub 11," but I didn't know that at the time.  My official chip time was 10:59:52.  I have no idea what that means, but under 11 seems nice. 

Post Race: Smiling Like Someone Who Didn't Die

Dave was one step behind me the entire way.  He's good like that.  I knew without a doubt that I could have stopped dead just shy of the finish & he would have stood there with me & not crossed until after I had taken that step.  In a funny twist, he still officially finished before I did...10:59:33.  He blames a longer stride than mine; I think he's secretly just another guy who can't stand to be beaten by a girl. 

Now, in my mental post-mortem of the race, I'm really happy with the whole evening, but I've realized that I am TER-I-FIED of the upcoming 5K.  I nearly dropped dead at the end of one mile...what's going to happen when I add another 2.1?  Apocalypse.