Saturday was the day. The 5K I committed to over a beer with Laura in December and started training for in January.
At that point, although I could walk forever, running was not my game. I could run a minute, maybe two, but that was it.
But I kept
And while I had huge ambitions to RUN the entire thing, life got in the way. My training schedule was disrupted by the need to be a parent to my children, my super-fantastical birthday, and the fact that I still have to work to pay the bills.
I could have given up.
But didn’t. Not even at the last minute.
I could have backed out saying that I couldn’t run the whole thing and refused to participate at all. Perfectionism is NOT my friend.
But I didn’t.
I showed up.
At the crack of dawn (or shortly thereafter).
Without a drop of caffeine (what???)…wearing my hot pink panties for good luck (and, thanks to Jessi, also some pants…because had she not asked me on Friday if I was wearing pants on Saturday morning, I might have shown up in my underwear.)
And while there is the Underwear Affair 10K Walk/5K run in Los Angeles, I’m pretty sure that pants were required at the Rock the Parkway run/walk in KC. Which I realize is to the sad dismay to readers of this little blog who were hoping to see the pink panties captured on film.
Back to the race.
While stretching at the starting line, it became apparent that my sports bra had an issue. While I tried to nonchalantly adjust, a couple of my running buddies were just curious as to how these “cupcakes” of mine are locked and loaded for running. Which resulted in a whole “peek down Kimmie’s shirt” escapade to see the straitjacket that gets the job done. These peeks were followed by “OMG!!!” and a brief discussion of the first few letters of the alphabet. And the discovery that some of us only need one letter when shopping for undergarments, and others of us need two (or three).
Back to the race.
Right before the race began, I confirmed one last time that my friends would make sure I crossed the finish line. I did not want to be left sitting in the middle of Ward Parkway spread eagle, gasping for breath like a dying guppy, and have no one worried that I was missing in action. After reminding the girls that I have GPS on my phone and that if I don’t show up, they should send a search party, the race began.
And my friends
took off running.
I had planned to follow my “training schedule” which involves a warm up walk…but it was harder than I thought to see them disappear into the crowd.
I was alone.
Surrounded by all the geriatric entrants. Seriously, I think one of them had a walker.
At least I had my Pandora radio app, and it was working. I figured the grannies near me couldn’t hear the fact that Rhianna’s S & M was blaring in my head.
So I stuck to the plan. And just about at the halfway point, my training schedule for the day was complete. I had a choice to make.
I could walk the rest. It was what I had planned.
Or I could do the training session a second time…including the running.
I chose the latter.
And crossed the
finish line RUNNING.
You know what?
I even found a perk to being the last of my group to cross the finish line. I’m often Pollyanna-ish like that. I had the BEST cheering section (Thank you, Laura, Jessi and Donna!) as I ran down the final stretch.
Of course, I’d have missed them completely (as I was in my ZONE), except for Jessi’s frantic jumping up and down
And although later Jessi shared that at one point there was the whine of an ambulance siren and her first thought was to pray for me, then keep running…we all crossed the finish line in one piece.
All in all, I ran over half of it.
You know what?