I have run my first race of the season. It went well.
On Friday, I headed myself over to Halifax to run the race course. I had printed out the map of the course, written the directions on my hand, and was ready to go. I drove the course first, then parked my car, walked for a while, went to where I thought the race would start. I ran down South Street, turned left on Inglis, and started watching for Young Street. I kept watching for Young. No Young. I got to the next set of light. Not Young. I turned in circles, trying to figure out why this was not South, and where I was supposed to be running. I started running back towards South, and then when I reached the corner of South and Inglis. Except that there is no such thing as the corner of South and Inglis. It was South and Robie. What the hell did I do? And what was this going to do to my timed trial? Well, what I had done was skip the first instruction on my hand, and not looked at the street names as I turned the first corner. So, after studying the map, driving the route, and writing the directions on my hand - I still screwed up. You can see why I need to run the route first. I could be the first person in the history of the race to run the wrong route, I know I could.
Anyway, after that I had a crappy run - slow pace, tired, not really into it. That screw up, combined with the fact that I wanted to get home to see the kids for a few minutes before they left for the rest of the day, combined with the fact that I had had a tired run the day before, and thought maybe I wasn't doing the best thing for myself by running again gave Mind the edge. I was a little disappointed - I wanted to leave good energy on the route to pick up on Sunday.
Sunday dawned bright and clear (okay, I was in bed when it dawned, but I'm assuming). I got up early, had some toast and coffee, took a shower, got dressed. I got the kids' breakfast ready, and then hauled Cam out of bed and dressed her unwilling self. Dexter woke up in a pissy mood. Bailey didn't want to get out of bed. Then Dexter didn't want me to leave. Do you think competitive runners have to deal with this before they run a race? I think not. Although I was supposed to be leaving with no kids, I ended up leaving with one kid who wanted desperately to come, and one kid who wanted desperately to stay. Luckily, my mother-in-law Pam graciously stepped up, and took over the kids once we arrived.
When we got to the university, I was expecting to be able to tell where I was supposed to go to register. I figured I would see the start line. I figured I would see runners streaming into the building I was supposed to go to. A band maybe. A banner. Anything. Instead, I couldn't tell anything, so we parked, and I went in search of the gym. Amazingly, we parked perfectly on the start line, and the building was the first place I found. Everything went smoothly until race time.
I stood behind the chalked startline, politely near the back, listening to the other runners chat. They all knew each other, it seemed, and I knew no one. I did enjoy eavesdropping though. I was surprised to see people running with kids in strollers, and envious to see a few couples racing together. Or at least in the same race. The gun went - people around me saying "was that the gun?" - not the most formal race in the world - and we were off. As I rounded the first corner, my own personal cheering section yelled loudly, and I felt good. I turned all the right corners, and at the 1 mile mark I was just over 8 minutes, so I knew my pace was good. Back of the pack, yep. But not the very back this time.
Near the end of the race, a heavily breathing older man wanted to pass me. I had already been passed several times, and learned that I HATE it. You say to yourself "Self, keep up with them. They were behind you up until now, they can't be that much better, just keep up." But for some reason, it is impossible. Anyhow, I ran with him for quite a while, but ended up fading a bit going up the last small slope, and he did come in ahead of me. It was a bit of mental victory to at least have staved off the passing for a bit - next time, I will keep up! As the runners went through the finish line, they were calling out times. I thought I heard someone say 34 minutes, and I was so disappointed. I felt that I had run the pace I was working towards, and that I should have been really close to my goal of 30 minutes. It flickered through my mind that it was 24 minutes, but I knew that was impossible.
When I got close enough to see the timer - it was at just 29 minutes! I crossed the finish line at 29:37. A personal best. And another goal met.
