The Official 5k

We woke up on time Saturday morning, which was an amazing event. Whenever we plan to do anything,  we always run late. We had already hit one stumbling block. Our babysitter fell through, which meant that we had to take all of the kids. Mary spent the night that at a friend's house, so it was just me, Pam, and the boys. I tried to prep the boys the night before. I told them that we were walking a 5k, and Noah asked me, "How long is that, like forever?" "No, Noah. It is only 3.1 miles." "That IS forever!" he cried. I assured him that he would be fine.

The first question of the morning was what to wear. I didn't care one way or the other, I don't get cold, and any exercise I do will make me hot. All of the boys put on shorts and T-shirts, as did Pam. We ate breakfast and headed out the door. We realized the wardrobe choice was a mistake. There was a slight chill in the air, and Pam, Noah, and Chance protested the shorts. I told them that they would warm up as we walked. Some arguing followed, but we didn't have time to change, we had to go.

We got to the building and met with the coordinators of the 5k and checked in. I don't think I have ever felt so out of place in my life. I was surrounded by people that were from a different place, almost like a different planet. These people were runners. You could tell. Everything about them shouted fitness and discipline. The build of their bodies, the clothes they wore, the way they carried themselves, the way they stretched, these were people who took running seriously. And they knew each other, they all joked and were hanging out and speaking their own language. It was like I walked in on a secret society and it was obvious that I didn't belong. I tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach and occupy my time with the kids.

Our friend Beth showed up and we huddled up and talked for a bit. Some announcements were made and we were told to get to the starting line of the race. It was a quarter of a mile up a hill. A steep, steep hill. Pam pushed the stroller as we walked in line with the rest of the participants. About halfway up the hill, I could tell this was going to be a long walk. Pam was having a hard time, and rightfully so, she was pushing an extra 70 pounds. We grouped up and allowed the "real" runners to take their places at the front. I tried to get in the middle of the whole group, behind the runners and ahead of the walkers. I figured that by being positioned there, I could keep a good pace. I also wanted to be in that position for another reason. If I couldn't keep up with the runners, I could at least beat the walkers. That competitive nature of mine was sneaking up.

The race started and the runners took off. Jealousy overwhelmed me. I wanted to run, but there was no way I could do that today. Baby steps, Jeremy, baby steps. As we walked, people were passing us left and right. That irritated me a bit. I wanted to start strong and finish ahead of everyone, but I knew that herding the boys would definitely slow me down today. Pam could tell that I was irritated. I left my watch at home, so I couldn't keep up with my pace, so that irritated me even more. She knew what was going on in my head. She told me to go ahead of them and walk at whatever pace I wanted. I decided to do that, and picked up some speed. The boys followed me. They don't like to lose either.

We sped up and started passing people. We made the first turn into the trail that we would be walking for the race. I looked back and saw that Pam and Beth were at the tail end of the pack. Pam was pushing the stroller and talking to Beth and just enjoying the walk. I felt stupid. This wasn't a race for me. It wasn't about beating someone and being the fastest, it was about finishing. It was about courage. It was about doing something that I have never done before. I wanted to be with Pam when I did it. I slowed down and waited for her to catch up. She said, "You could have gone on, we were fine back here." I wasn't fine, but I didn't tell her that. I was ashamed of the way I acted. I started walking and enjoying the time and conversation.

The trail twisted and turned through some light brush and trees. We passed by the new playground they are building. We hit our first really big hill. Pam pushed the boys as hard as she could up that hill. It was a big one, I was winded just walking up it by myself. Pam had a real hard time with those chunky boys of ours. The thought had occurred to me to push the boys myself. There are two reasons I didn't want to do that. One, strollers aren't for tall people. They make those things for people under six foot tall. Since I am 6'4", I have to bend over and push it, which is one of the most uncomfortable positions to walk in that you can imagine. It feels like your back is in the shape of a question mark. The second reason I didn't want to push it is, well, it's a guy thing. I didn't want to have to take a punch on the my Man Card. I felt bad for Pam though. I knew that if we were going to hit a lot more of those hills, it was not going to be a fun time. I took the reigns of the stroller, Man Card punched, and kept walking. 

We walked by a lake that looked like it was about to dry up. That didn't stop one optimistic fisherman. He was casting his line in as walked by, hoping to catch the very last of the fish that resided in the dying lake. The trail turned at the end of what use to be the edge of the lake and went through a pass surrounded by trees. At the end, it opened up to a large lake. I wondered what stopped the fisherman from fishing here instead of the nearly dried up one. There was a group of people huddled together standing at the edge of the water.  Odd, but then I saw one looking through a pair of binoculars. Birdwatchers. I don;t think I have ever seen an official group of birdwatchers. It felt awkward seeing these people, because their activity was as foreign to me as the runners. They buzzed with excitement over something in the distance and were speaking in their little bird language. Something as inconsequential as a bird was something rare and exciting to them. It made me wish I could get excited about small things like that. I almost wanted to stop and see what the big deal was, but I was there to walk, so I kept going.

We walked around the lake. The boys were feeling good. I think if I let Joe, he would have run the whole thing. He was running circles around us as we were walking. On the other side of the lake, the park had planted several trees and put what type of tree it was on a plaque in front of them. I like to make up stories about how things get their name. Pam likes to here them. "Jeremy. why do they call this a Silver Maple?" "Because that's where you get silver syrup." Stupid stuff like that. The cherry tree had been cut down, and we had assumed George Washington had been there. Our comedy session ended and we kept walking.

1.5 miles. That's what the marker said as we reached it. Halfway there. That fact was followed by different responses. There was a "Yesssssss" from Joe, a "Only halfway, I thought we were almost done!" from Noah, a sigh and sort of a muffled grunt from Pam, Chance said something about going out to eat when we finished. I just wanted my watch. I wanted to know the time. I was still obsessing a little bit about the pace. It was disheartening to see the rest of the group ahead of us get further and further away. We caught up with some stragglers and passed by them. Noah said that he couldn't walk much further, because he would get too skinny. He pushed on.

We were at the north leg of the trail. It has trees on the right and road on the left. Cars passed by as we pressed on. We walked down a winding hill then back up the other side. As we walked, I heard something make a loud noise behind us. I didn't stop. It got closer, it almost sounded like a big bird squawking, but I ignored it. A third day it called, this time, I was able to interpret it's call. "On your left!" I looked to my left, thinking someone was trying to warn me of an incoming frisbee or perhaps a ill struck golf ball. "On your left!" Again the warning was sounded, and I looked back to see a woman on a mountain bike coming down a hill. She was equipped for for riding, with the biking suit, helmet, glasses, and a bike that probably cost more than my car. I slowly edged over to the right as far as I could, and the biker came barrelling through, quietly gving us a thanks for not ruining her pace as she went by. I thought mountain bikes were made for dirt trails, not concrete. This was a day of very confused people.

We got to the first (and only) water station. it was about a mile from the end of the 5k. We picked up a cup each and kept going. Johnny was finally getting a bit restless. He was ready to get down and do something. Not much further, so we gave him his cup and kept going. I gave the reigns of the stroller over to Chance, hoping we didn't run into any more bikers. Pam took the camera out and we started taking pictures, mostly action shot of us walking. We walked by the playground that was under construction and knew we were at the tail end of the race. We were confused as to which way to go, so we off roaded it with a group that was slightly ahead of us and walked behind them. This led us to a wide road. We walked and saw another group of participants on a trail to our right. We must have taken a wrong turn. We thought about off roading it and joining them, but we decided to stay on the road and keep going. As we hit the top of the hill, we could see the finish line ahead of us. The boys started jumping up and down with joy. They wanted to run to it, so we let them. When Joe got to the end, he fell to his knees in victory. He did what I felt like doing. We did it. 5k. Officially, 5k. 1 hour, 7 minutes flat.

I found out from one of the race coordinators later that lots of people took a wrong turn where we did. We actually ended up doing a 5.2k, but I am not one to get caught up with details. Yes, I am, but hey, I did a 5k. The first of many, hopefully. My next goal is to run one. Time to get training.