It was raining goats and sheep when Penny and I got up yesterday morning. In fact, she had already been on the festival's Facebook page and seen that they had moved the event, including the 5K, back two hours due to the weather. That was good, because we got to sleep a little longer and drive a little slower when we did leave.
The last weather report I looked at saw the rain chances go from 100% at 8:00 a.m. to 15% at 9:00. That meant we would run in dry weather if the race is now starting at 10:00, right? It was not to be. At 10:00 a.m., the little crowd that had gathered for the race at the Vardeman Post Office, was sent out in a pouring rain. "Remember you race number," was the last piece of advice they gave us. That's when I noticed our numbers were made of pure paper. They would not, could not last.
At 62 degrees it was not too bad, and hey, you can't run them all in the sunshine can you? It was different and the rain transformed the race into a bit a bit of an adventure. At least we were running. I was amazed when I realized how slow my pace was despite the fact that my legs and lungs thought we were moving much faster. I ran shuffled the first mile in 10:23. Huh? Yeah, that was what I could do. Gradually I felt myself slow down over the next mile. I was gaining weight with every step so there is that. When I checked my race number, it was gone, melted in the rain like my energy.
We ran up the hill by the cemetery. My heart rate hit 152 there. I tried to recover once I crested the hill, but if I ever did I couldn't tell it. I ran off course. There was no mark at one turn, and I had no one in sight in front of me. There was a car sitting dead in the road, and as I ran by someone yelled, "I think it's that way." Since his windows were totally blacked out, I had to guess which way "that way" was. I'm not a socket rientist, but I was pretty sure it wasn't the way I was going. Thus I turned around and took the left turn in front of the car.
I was two mile in now and this is the place where it really hurts. Nervous energy was gone. Muscle freshness was gone. Mental enthusiasm had died. There was only the road and the incessant messege from my brain to slow down. I pushed harder.
Some kid was creeping up on my from behind and my goal became, don't let that little turd catch me. He didn't but only becuase he didn't launch a real surge that he could hold. Finally, I made it to the last straightaway, and I pushed it as hard as I could would. My splits were
1 - 10:23
2 - 11:05
3 - 10:52
4 - 9:34
total: 33:16
That was twenty seconds per mile slower than last year. Huh? Am I slowing down that much? That part is pretty discouraging. But I was and remain too stubborn to quit. See you next year, runners.
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