November 30, 2009
Well guys, I'm proud to say that I stuck with my original plan and I ran the 5K Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving morning. It was a microscopic race with no mile markers, no clocks, no race numbers, no age groups, no real finish line to speak of, and no pressure for a woman who was six-and-a-half weeks post-partum. That would be me.
I went into the race with three different goal levels...
Level 1: Finish the 3.1 mile race without dropping any internal parts on the asphalt (uterus, bladder, etc).
Level 2: If all parts remained in tact, finish the race without walking.
Level 3: If I could do the course completely walk-free, finish the run in under 35 minutes.
I ran the race with my sister, who finished the Marine Corps Marathon in October. Mmm hmm, that's really fair, huh? Let me tell you, she was nothing but thrilled to have the chance to run with me, since she owed me a complete ass-whooping reminiscent to the one I dropped on her when her baby was four-months-old.
I really knew I was in for it when she--the girl who flat out refuses to pay more than 14 cents for a jar of name brand pasta sauce--jumped at the chance to cover my entrance fee.
We lined up behind some schmuck wearing a turkey on his head, and when the race director said "go" (remember, this race was way low budget--no start guns), we went. I think the race went past some really nice houses, and some picturesque New England churches, and the open ocean, but I really can't recall. All I remember was looking down at my brand new shoes and thinking, "If I accidentally let loose and pee all over these, I swear I'll throw down a tantrum at the finish line."
I'm very happy to announce that my sister was beyond merciful to me during the race. Rather than slapping me into submission like she very well could have, she kept us at a relaxed but challenging pace--enough for me to think "Wow, this sucks," but not so fast that we couldn't chat the whole way.
When we got to the end of the course (honestly, there was no real finish chute to speak of, just a bunch of guys wearing tights, doing slightly offensive stretches), she looked at her watch and said, "Oh, you'll be happy...29:17!"
And I was. 29:17 is about 7 minutes slower than I usually clock for a 5K, but then again, I don't usually run 5Ks when I have a 9-pound newborn hanging out at home.
I know that my sister could have gone a mess of a lot faster. But me? Not so much. And for that, I'd like to give her the Sisterly Love Award. You might laugh, but that's no small deal, I've only ever bestowed that award upon one person in the entire universe.
So there. I did it, just like I said I would. And I'm happy to say that the entire experience was poop, pee, and tantrum free.