I had a lot of trouble sleeping last night. My nerves really got to me. I made it a point to really get as much sleep as I could, so I turned of the lights at 9 p.m. However, due to my overactive mind, I lay there for two hours making no progress. I eventually full under past 11 or so. All things considered, I probably got more sleep than the rest of the Learn to Run class members I was running with.
The alarm went off at 4, and I was out the door by about 5:25. I got to the Running Room at about 5:45 and was the second one there. We did agree to meet at 5:45, so it wasn’t like I was eager or anything. Really, being that it was so early in the morning, I couldn’t blame anyone for being just a few minutes late.
One of the group leaders had all of our runners kits which was really nice. I got mine and fished my bib out. Number 736. Wow! I had a number. How strange. Mentally, I associate them with real runners. Honestly, even with the number, I wasn’t eagerly including myself in that subset of the human population, you know? While we were all gathering, my instructor was asking if anyone wanted espresso. She asked enough times that I eventually caved. What’s the worst that coffee can do, right?
We split ourselves among four cars and left for the yacht club at about 6. We made good time and arrived well before start time. After spilling out of the cars, we milled around a little bit and started pinning our numbers to our shirts. Things were seeming more and more official my the minute. As we walked to the club, I spotted the start/finish line, and all I could think of was: “whoa…there it is.” That’s where I wanted to be withing the next hour or so. So weird. We walked around among the other competitors. The eagerness of everyone was certainly palpable. Off to the side, I told one of the people I came with that I felt like I stepped into some bizzaro world. I still didn’t feel part of it all. People were so happy. There were some competitors dancing off to the side. I felt more like a spectator than a participator. Still, there I was. We all wanted to be there at that moment. That’s what unified us.
I got my ankle chip and strapped it on. The group of us were just off to the side joking around. The bathroom lines were long and required a good amount of time just to make it through. I refused to wait in line. I mean, what if I was still waiting around when the race started? That’s what I witnessed happening when the half-marathoners left. They were scheduled to leave 15 minutes before the 5K runners. When the whistle sounded, I saw some people running from the building, almost catching up to the rest of the crowd. Well, with more than half of the people already gone, I figured that it might be a good time to go to the washroom. It was. The lineup wasn’t so bad.
Anyway, 5 minutes to the start of the race, we all moved to the gathering before the starting line. We purposely positioned ourselves near the back of the pack. We were all nervously joking among each other. Soon though, we were down to 10 seconds. Time was moving so quickly! Was it that time already? Daaamn. Well, the whistle sounded, and I was off. I commented out loud that this was like being on a coaster at Wonderland. I swear, what I was feeling was like that moment of anticipation right at the top of a coaster hill. The car just slowly creeps forward, and you know that the wild ride is about to get under way. I also exclaimed at how I was still in some bizarre world. There was some sort of dream-like quality to the whole starting line thing. It’s really hard to put it all into words.
I think it took me 40 seconds to actually cross the starting line. It’s alright though, because the ankle chip counted my starting time. As I ran, I saw sign posts telling us where we were at.
100m, 200m, 300m…
The distance was passing by at a good rate. Our group was sort of sticking together at the beginning. We were intending on doing 10 minute intervals with walking breaks. I tried to tell myself that this was just like any other run. It was. Sort of. (Not really.)
Very soon, I spotted the 1km marker and thought, “damn, I’m doing alright for myself!” The first interval went by pretty well. From a distance, my instructor called back to me, “Jason! How are you doing?” I gave her the thumbs up. I looked around, and there were quite a number of people who slowed down as well. They were doing 10′s as well, which was awesome. I sort of half expected most of them to just keep going. Soon we were off again, but I found that I was starting to experience a lot of difficulty.
During training, we often ran through the trails and wooded areas, so maybe my legs were used to feeling softer ground. This race was mostly on a paved trail through parklands and over sidewalks. It was harder on my legs. My legs quickly felt like lead. I started seeing some people returning from the halfway point. I thought, “Hey! I must be close to halfway! Now where’s that 2km mark?” It seemed like it took forever to get to the 2km marker. Many people were passing me, and I felt like I was constantly playing catch up. Not good. The rest of my running group had pulled up ahead. Yup. Just like every other run. Heheh.
After a few more corners, I saw the halfway mark. I wasn’t too far behind the bulk of the people at that point, but I was really struggling. People were handing out Gatorade and water at the halfway point. I grabbed some Gatorade, but as I ran, most of it just ended up on my shirt. As I continued, another person was giving water. I grabbed it too, but again, most of the drink ended up on my shirt. At that point, I was really feeling crappy. I frequently slowed down to a walk. At one point, I was really cursing bringing my water belt. I was feeling weighed down by it. I just wanted to drop it and run, but I decided against it. I was praying to see that 3km mark. And it came, but I wasn’t feeling great about it. I think I saw the yacht club in the distance, but was horrified by the fact that it looked so far away. I managed some bursts of activity, but I couldn’t keep it up for long. I was very discouraged by that point. I got even more discouraged by when one or two power walkers passed me. I thought, “Damn, they’re speedy! Oh, the indignity!” Seriously. I mentally checked out for a minute or two. It wasn’t pleasant.
I came back to my senses when I looked behind me and saw quite a few people still at it. I knew I had to keep going. So, I kept it up as much as I could. I looked off in the distance way out ahead of me. There was another member of my running group. She was still going. If she was still at it, I knew I could keep going. I looked at my watch and thought, “OK…at this rate, even if I keep stopping, I might still be able to break 42 minutes. This one kid power walked his way right past me. I would’ve been indignant, but somewhere along the way in the last kilometre, I suddenly stopped caring about other people, and I think that made a big difference.
Eventually, I arrived at the 4km mark and I was feeling happy that it was almost over. I looked at my watch and thought, “damn…30 minutes…I suppose that means I can somehow take 11 minutes to make it to the finish.” I really don’t know if I intended to take that long, but I felt a bit better knowing that there was this insurance. That was followed by the thought: “Holy shit!!!!! I might make it under 38!!!!!”
There was this one woman in a blue sports top sort of in front of me, taking a small walking break. I kept a constant jog, with a goal to catch up to her. I did. She turned to me and greeted me warmly. I returned the greetings and ran past her. She started running and caught up to me. We both saw the signs counting down the distance to the finish. 500m! I turned to her and exclaimed: “keep going!” There was an unspoken part to that: “Keep going so that I can keep going too!” She understood. “We’re doing it!” she shouted.
400m…300m…
At 300, we came out of the wooded area and we saw the yacht club. She turned to me and said, “you know, my husband always said that during the last hundred metres or so you should sprint all the way to the end! Do you want to do that?” I agreed and was getting ready for it. At 150m, she yelled out, “GO!” and we bolted. We ran for our lives at that point. There’s that Canadian-ism (I think) where when you put in that extra effort you “giv’er.” Let me say that we really, really gav’er. I yelled out, “I’m gonna puke!!! But I don’t care!!!” Classy.
Holy hell. At that point it was all a blur. As I neared the line, I could hear some of my running group yelling “GO JASON!!!!” Surely they were all at the end already. Of course they were, and I was about to join them. When that woman an I crossed the line in speedy fashion, we high-fived each other. I don’t think we saw each other after that. I kind of feel sad about that. I kind of consider her as something of a bit of an angel. She really made me push at the end there. I didn’t even get a chance to look at the clock properly. All I know is that I was under 40 minutes. I think the race time was 38 and change. Since it took me 40 seconds or so to cross the start, maybe I’m actually under 38. Who knows? Even if I’m over 38 (under 39 for sure) it’s still better than what I anticipated. I won’t find out until they check my ankle chip. I’m afraid though. What if I didn’t step on the mat properly at some point at the beginning or end? Then I’d have no official time. Ah, but that’s such a minor concern right now.
Speaking of which, the ankle chip was the first thing they got from me. I tried to bend down to take it off my ankle myself, but I was so off balance. I would’ve fallen over, to the volunteer said “whoa whoa! I’ll take it off for you.” I was grateful. I was even more grateful when they put a medal around my neck. Sure, all finishers got one, but it was still such a huge accomplishment for me to even get one. At that point, what I had just done started to really sink in. Unexpectedly (or expectedly, knowing me), I started to well up. The immense pride was gushing forth, and I just couldn’t hold it in. The group gathered around me. My instructor hugged me. I felt like I’d won the lottery…or something. I dunno. I managed to compose myself, and was really smiles for the next few hours after.
We all gathered back into Toronto for a nice big greasy breakfast. Most of us still had our medals and numbers on. It was awesome. Great way to cap the day!
So yes, that’s the report for my very first 5K event. I’ve already signed up for my next one at the Toronto Islands, three weeks from now. I want to do better for that one–I really do. There are no medals for that one (only the top 3 in each age groups…and really, there’s no way that’d happen) so I’m in it just to really see if I can do better. And hey, running on the islands sounds just fantastic.
From this experience, in my mind, I’ve really driven home some points that previously were just “common sense.” They’ve now received so much more meaning for myself. Firstly, there’s that Yogi Berra-ism: “It ain’t over till it’s over.” Seriously. I came close to giving up. In the end, I still did better than I thought I’d do.
Secondly, I’m really seeing now that almost everyone is really battling their own inner-gremlins. Even though some people maybe be ahead of me, they may also battling various levels of self-doubt. I’m not alone in that department. One of my running group members told me that she looked behind her and saw me off in the distance. She told me that when she did, she realized that I was having as much trouble as she was having. I was a bit puzzled when she said that. However, when I realized all the meaning behind that, I was sort of in awe. Yes, she was ahead, but she was struggling just as much as I was. Wow.
Thirdly, yes, I’m slow. I have to deal with it! That’s just a limitation that I have. It is what it is. Regardless, I am still capable of having personal bests. Slowness doesn’t deny me the right to set goals. When I was poking around online to see other people’s experiences with their first 5K races, I felt like I was such a turtle. There was no way I was going to make it in their 30 minute times. Still, that’s them. I’m happy to make it under 40. There are people who’d be ecstatic to make it in the time that I made it today. Point is, running is such a personal experience. Now that I’ve set my first personal best, I know how far to aim for the next time.
I plan on framing my number as a reminder of just how far I’ve come. It amazes how I’ve come to appreciate all of this. This is all beyond anything I could have imagined earlier this year.
Now, all I need is rest. And I know that I can rest easy.
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