Going the Extra Mile (plus .1)

I’ve done lots of 5Ks, all of them as a walker and the vast majority of them pre-children. But I was nervous about today's race, the Tour DeCatur, since I was actually going to run this one. 

In theory I’m ready, since at this point in my training I’m supposed to be able to run 3 miles. A 5K is 3.1 miles, and really, how much harder will that .1 be?

The hardest part was sticking to my running schedule during the race (run 3 minutes, walk 90 seconds), because I felt like everyone was flying by me. I could never see the police car that was at the very back of the race pack, though, so that was a good thing.

I hit the one-mile mark a little sooner than I thought I would, and about a minute later I saw my small but strong-voiced cheering section (see the video below). My five-year-old saw the pace I was running at and simply said: "Mommy, speed up!" 

Wish I had seen them during the last mile, when my legs – conditioned to a 2-mile long run – wondered why I was still moving. I was definitely slower, but as I said to a fellow runner/walker as we headed up a hill, at least I’m still moving.

All in all the race went better than I thought it would (I finished in 38:20, way faster than I’ve ever walked a 5K). Maybe it’s from all those days of going up and down the hills in my neighborhood. Or maybe I’m slightly more fit than I thought, despite my sore left knee.

As I walked back to the car after the race, I thought about how at this point I’d be only half done with the Peachtree. Wondering how, and whether, I’ll get there is for another day. For now it’s about remembering my boys’ screams of encouragement as they watched Mommy in a race, and celebrating the fact that I actually ran a 5K.

And eating the Oreo cookies offered to runners as part of a post-race snack.