#16. It's crazy to think that I had already completed 15 races, 12 of which were all in 2012. I was ready to start 2013 off right and decided that the Firefly Run was the perfect race for my first of the year. This particular race is my favorite. The course is totally flat, it's a night race (which I LOVE) and the glow-in-the dark atmosphere makes me happy. My friend Priscilla and her boyfriend Sid decided to run it with me. I did it with my niece last year, but she's now in the Navy so I was bummed that she couldn't be there. We had a blast last year.
I had pre-race jitters like crazy before this race. I always have some anxiety before a race but usually I don't have much time to dwell on it since they're typically morning races. With this race, I had an entire 12 hours to worry about all of the crazy things that I worry about before a race. Was I ready? Had I trained enough? It had been 3 months since my last 5k so I was nervous. But I had been doing my 10k training since January so I was about as prepared as I was going to be. Shorts or pants? It was 55* but I wanted to wear glow-in-the-dark gear on my legs, so I went with shorts. What should I eat during the day? And more importantly, what had I eaten the day before that I might need to "expel"? Think I'm gross all you want (do you really expect anything less from me?) but this matters to runners, trust me. The LAST thing you want to happen to you during a race of 7,000 participants is to have crippling stomach pains and a blowout mid-race because you chose to eat tacos and beer the night before. And lastly, my most important concern (yes, even more important than filling my pants during mile 2) was that there would be a really good looking guy at the finish line this time. I recently started seeing someone and he planned to be at the race. As I've mentioned in previous blog posts, I'm not even remotely cute when I finish running. I'm sweaty, red, panting and look a little like I might stroke out. I haven't been with Hottie long enough to subject him to that image. My post-race look is a borderline deal breaker. So how was I going to cross the finish line still looking semi-cute, without my shorts lodged in my uterus? I finally had to accept that the only thing I had any control over was the shorts. I couldn't control my red face or sweaty boobs or my disheveled hair, but I could pre-plan the dislodging of the shorts prior to making the last turn before the finish line.
There were SO MANY people at this race. Thousands. There were 7,000 last year and I think there may have been more this year. Last year I had been worried about dodging so many people but had done pretty well. This year was even more nerve-wracking because of the increased number of little kids and baby strollers. Not to mention it would be DARK and the ground was wet from the earlier rain storm. I pushed my way towards the front and hoped that the parents with small children had been smart enough to stay towards the back. I knew that the combination of thousands of people, cold weather and crazy North TX winds would make this a semi-unpleasant race, so my playlist for that night consisted mainly of hard rock and heavy metal to get me through the tough moments. My goal was to beat last year's time of 36:08.
The first mile was spent dodging pint-sized runners who didn't know to stay to the right. When I'd find an open space, I'd sprint in order to make up for time I had lost while trying to get around people. Even after all these races, I have yet to learn to pace myself. I finished the first mile in 10:30 and the 2nd by 22:45. That gave me over 13 min to finish the last 1.1 mile. Problem was, the wind was killing my lungs and the blinking light bracelet I had strapped around my calf was digging into my muscle every time I flexed. I could've ripped it off but I didn't want to get trampled if I slowed down. So I sucked it up and kept going.
Hottie was supposed to text me when he arrived but my phone hadn't buzzed during the race. So I assumed he hadn't found a place to park and wasn't going to be at the finish line. But I wasn't about to risk the surprise of running towards him with my shorts several inches higher than they needed to be. So I slowed down slightly before the last turn and pulled them back down over my butt cheeks where they belonged.
As I've mentioned before, I have a rule against walking across the finish line. I always reserve enough energy at the very end to run across, even if I'm all out of steam. But at the end of this race, I completely misjudged the distance to the finish line and started running again much too soon. As a result of this misjudgment, I had just set myself up to finish the race in the most unattractive condition possible. Not only had I removed my shorts from my throat an entire 50 yards too soon, but I also had left way too much time at the end for my lungs to handle. It had been a cold, windy run so they had had it. But since I couldn't break my finish line rule, I had to deal with it and keep going and hope that I didn't vomit, pass out or look too pathetic when I crossed the finish line. By the time I reached the end, my shorts were back up so far that I could feel the cold wind in places that shouldn't have been able to feel the wind. My ears were ringing, partly from the wind and partly from the Soilwork song blaring from my earbuds. My lungs were on fire, my left calf was in pain and I'm pretty sure I had an ugly grimace on my face from the extra effort. I crossed the finish line in 35:26, beating last year's goal and making this my 2nd fastest 5k.
Lucky for me (and probably for his eyes), Hottie hadn't made it to the finish line due to the parking issue. He didn't have to witness the wheezing or the I'm-going-to-puke face or watch me walk around disoriented, looking for water. I finally found water but was too shaky and tired to open the bottle, so I asked two guys standing near me to open it for me. They looked at me like I was an alien for a few seconds until one of them asked me if I was ok. I said yes, that I was just tired and couldn't open my water. They continued to stare at me skeptically (come on guys, did you actually think I was pretending to look like I was on the verge of having a stroke just so I could hit on you and use my water as a pick-up line? Just open my fricken water already!) until finally one of them opened my bottle and handed it back to me. Semi-hydrated and now able to breathe, I called Hottie and met him for post-race beers. Unfortunately, beer was my only celebratory food/drink so I was crazy dehydrated the next day. I didn't eat my normal pig-out post-race meal or even drink much water for that matter. Just some Blue Moon while watching Comedy Central with a good lookin' dude who had unknowingly avoided seeing me at my ugliest a few hours earlier.
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