Woke up excited on Sunday morning, gearing to go and trying to distract Nathan from the fact that this was his first ever race. The poor guy was tired and nervous and slightly grouchy about having to run. I remember my first 5K and I can't say I blamed him.
Thirty minutes later, we arrived at Tempe Diablo stadium, checked in with Tali and our team and got ourselves registered. Another thirty minutes after that, we were decked out in team shirts, the timers were on our ankles and the numbers across our chests - it was time to run. I was fidgeting with nerves at the start line during the entire 10 minute opening ceremony (don't get me started) and fought to maintain a normal pace when the gun went off and it was time to go.
For the first quarter mile Nathan and I stayed together, fighting our way through the pack and laughing slightly at the grade school boys who sprinted to the front. I felt great! The wind was in my hair, I was picking people off left and right and all I could think of was my recent dream in which I could run for forever. Besides that, it was a beautiful, sunny Fall morning and I was taking part in one of my favorite pastimes with one of my favorite people. There it was, the familiar feeling: I wanted to win.
I turned around to blow a kiss to Nathan and quickly sped away. Bam!, I passed a runner. Shazam!, there went one more. I was a machine and I had my eye on the folks in front. My goal was to do the race under 29 minutes but heck, I wasn't going to complain if it could be faster! I continued to focus on maintaining my pace and how great I was feeling. And then, like it always does, reality set in.
My legs became slightly heavier and my breathing slightly more laboured. Dang! Turns out I couldn't run forever... Now, it was down to the mental race. I refused to let myself think negative. Too many times I've learned that the only thing that stands between a good race and a poor race is a few bad thoughts. Instead, I focused on the fact that I had already made it one mile, one and a half miles, two miles, all on practically no practice at all! This was my gift, my ability given straight from my Creator and I sure wasn't going to squander it away. Running like this, choosing to push rather than to give in to the pain, recognizing that I had been given an ability and that it was being used to help the children I cared about in Chuka, was wonderful and exciting. So I ran.
I ran past water station's one and two with hardly . I ran past two or three more runners, one of which was a twelve year old boy with no concept for pacing oneself. After watching him sprint and walk, sprint and walk, sprint and walk, and passing him two times only to have him overtake me again with all the sprinting, I finally made him run next to me for a half mile. No walking, no overly fast, just a nice, slow pace. I was proud of the little fella.
And still I ran.
Just when I was starting to feel as if the finish line would be something I crossed walking, there it was, right in front of me. I gathered whatever remaining strength I had, dropped a few swear words to let the ground know that it had better move quickly under me and proceeded to work into sprint mode. There were three gentlemen right behind me and while I had already given up on trying to catch the lady in front, there was no way I was letting them pass me.
At 28 minutes and 15 seconds, I crossed the finish line. I had done it!
Five days later, my muscles are finally beginning to recover and I feel more encouraged and excited about this hike than ever. I remember why I enjoy doing this and how excited I am to be doing it for Chuka. I remember how truly blessed I am to be spending a Sunday racing and as long as Jesus allows me the ability, I will continue to run.
There you have it! The story of Team Whitchurch's first 5K - I hope you've enjoyed it!
PS - Nathan did a wonderful job too! His first race and he did it without stopping and in decent time. And see the below, smiling afterward:
Go Team Whitchurch (a subsidiary of Team Planet Heart)!
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