The nefarious 5k

Okay, so Saturday was the Mt. Tabor Challenge 5k. I had really been going back and forth over the past month, trying to decide if I was going to go through with it since I hadn't been training much lately. Last week, I got an email from the race's organizers that said that the 5k course was mostly flat with some gentle sloping downhills, so I said "sure, why not?" and decided once and for all that I would do the race. One thing I should have thought about: Mt. Tabor is a mountain (albeit a tiny one), so there's no way the race course can just be flat and downhill. For one thing, just to get to the packet pickup I had to walk a significant way up the mountain(the road to which was neither flat nor gently downhill). So finally I get up to packet pickup, I get my number pinned on, I'm ready to go, and then a guy announces that the start of the race is actually at the very top of the mountain, so I still have a ways to go before I can even start! So I climb the rest of the way and I'm already huffing and puffing and sweating. I'm looking around at the other people running the race and I realize that I am going to be in the back of the pack pretty quickly since there aren't that many participants. Any fantasies I had of not being the last finisher go out the window at this point. I'm going to be last...the question is just how much farther am I going to be behind everyone.

So the race organizer gets his airhorn out and starts the race. It looks like I'm the only one walking, because I am immediately in the back of the pack. This was such a tough blow, emotionally, that I seriously thought about just quitting right then and walking back down to the car. I kept myself going by deciding I was going to duck out as the course went past the finish line the first time (it was set up so you do a small loop at the top of the mountain, go through the finish area, then do a big loop around the whole park and come back to the finish). So I did my small loop and start climbing the hill (uphill again? really?) to the finish area, just about ready to pack it in. At this point, my adrenaline must have kicked in or something, because for a minute I felt like I could really finish the whole race. I gave my iPod to T (who was waiting at the finish line to cheer me on), since it was just getting in my way, and I continued on the course.

About a half a mile further, I completely regretted that decision. I came to a hill that seemed to go on forever. It was a gradual slope but since it just kept going (for about a mile, I think), it really took all I had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I began to wonder if it really was possible for me to finish the race. Was I going to keel over? Was I going to puke? Was I going to roll down the hill and into some underbrush where nobody would ever find me again? The only thing that kept me going at that point was that I didn't know how to get back to my car except for following the race course. So I kept putting one foot in front of the other and breathing and just tried to get through it. Finally I got to the top of the hill where the course looped back on itself so I knew I was relatively close to the finish. I had a tiny bit of energy left, so I kicked it up a bit so I could get up that last hill. I finished with a time of 1 hour and 13 minutes...not too bad...at least I wasn't hours and hours behind everyone else.

It was a good experience and I'm glad I did it, but I am definitely going to train more and get into better shape before the next race. I'm also going to make sure the next one is on a flat course and not a frickin' mountain!

That's me, after the race!