This morning, I completed my very first athletic event EVER (well, not counting dance concerts, PE classes, step aerobics, and the time I was cast in a semi-professional musical as a little boy catching a football.) Inspired by my fabulous Mom Friend Jessica and others, I started a very loose variation of the "Couch to 5K" program a couple of months ago, and TODAY was the 5K "Love the Run You're With" race. I signed up for it months in advance, and let's just say my training peaked a bit too early. (It's been a couple of weeks since I rehearsed.) Also, I don't want to sound like I'm making excuses or anything, but my sick 7 yr-old son woke up wheezing last night and my husband took him to the ER around midnight, so none of us went to bed until 2am. (Thankfully, my son is fine. We just don't mess around when it comes to breathing issues.) When the toddler woke up at 6:30 and the rest of the family was still sleeping soundly, I decided I would try this thing after all.
Since this is a fashion blog, I need to mention that I had planned my outfit in advance, so it wasn't too hard to get dressed quickly, even while trying to sneak around with a 2 yr-old shouting, "Are you handsome? Where we going?" the whole time I dressed in the dark. I put on my Lucy pants, the Under Armour Shirt my older son encouraged me to purchase, a pair of actually matching white socks, and my awesome Mizuno running shoes that I bought from Amazon. (I could write a whole blog post about running shoes, of course, but I picked these because they were the only ones that supposedly had cushion for middle-aged knees AND support for pronation and I remember my ballet teacher telling me not to pronate when I was 9.) Fortunately, I grabbed a jacket and hat, too, because it was FREEZING.
I moved our 10 year-old "teenager" out of his bed and on to the living room couch, told him he was in charge, turned on Sesame Street for the toddler, and left. Then it was just a matter of finding Arlington, Virginia, which is not exactly my specialty, and I tried not to be too spooked by the signs saying "Turkey Run," "Dead Run," and other creepy Run things along the way.
Now, I need to add that a friend of mine, Jen, asked if I wanted to meet up before the race and I basically said no. "I kind of want to do this by myself," I told her over Facebook ("because I might end up walking or throwing up and I don't want anyone I know to see the wreckage," I thought in my head.) But she insisted, so I met her, some friends of hers, and her teenage son at Starbucks before the race.
I'll admit publicly now that I actually tried to shake her at one point when I waited in line for the bathroom, but when I emerged about 2 minutes before the race, there she was--smiling and waving encouragingly, her other friends long gone. (Jen is the same woman who forced me to leave the house and breastfeed my first newborn in the Nordstrom's bathroom 10 years ago, so although I don't see her often, it somehow seems appropriate that she was there for this race.)
I actually skipped over the drama that happened before finding Jen, when I ran up and down a million sets of stairs and hallways in the Pentagon Mall trying to find the check-in place. Then I had to dump my stuff in the car, pee, figure out what to do with my car keys, pin my number on, go to the wrong Starbucks, run to the right Starbucks, etc. So I was kind of winded before we even started.
When we finally joined the crowd of racers already lined up, I was actually incredibly relieved to have a friend with me to show me where to stand. Then, right as we started, she told me about the hill. HILL? Nobody mentioned a hill, but there it was: right at the beginning, stretching on for miles (or, to be more precise, WAY less than a mile, as I found out later.)
I told Jen to go on ahead, REALLY, I'll do the hill on my own. But she stuck with me, reminding me that what goes up, must go down at some point. Believe it or not, the hill itself wasn't so bad. Someone even had a sign that said "Hurry or you'll miss Downtown Abbey," and that made me smile.
Then we started seeing these happy-runner-cheer-people-going in the opposite direction, and I felt touched that they were cheering us on. But then Jen explained that those runners had actually TURNED AROUND already and were running the same race. Cute. Real cute. It didn't take an economist to figure out that this meant we weren't even halfway there. I informed her that I wouldn't be talking anymore.
This is when the Ailment Phase began. My doctor told me recently that I have very low Vitamin D levels, and just before Mile 2, I suddenly realized that I never googled what could happen to someone if they ran a race with too little Vitamin D. Plus I have low blood pressure, which means I can pass out pretty easily, and I don't think the stitches from my C-sections ever fully healed. In fact, my C-section scar was really starting to hurt. "A little over a mile to go," Jen quipped, as if that were a good thing.
Then I started wheezing a little, which reminded me of my poor son. And I suddenly realized that this was G-d's punishment for being selfish and running a 5K when my CHILD had been in the ER the night before! It was clear as day--I am a terrible person and I am going to pass out in this race. What am I even doing here when my son is sick? I must have made a face because Jen told me to keep going.
We were circling back now, and I could see that other people were still on the first leg of the U, so I wasn't last. Then came the Indian Food Phase. Yes, I had Indian Food the night before my first 5K. (Yeah, yeah--my sick son said the only thing he could eat were Mango Lassis.) I regretted this meal choice immediately after eating it last night, but my husband made me feel better by saying that everyone in India eats Indian food before THEIR 5Ks, right? I'm not sure if that's true, but it was pretty much my mantra at this point in the race.
Then I'd had it. I panted to Jen that I was going to walk until I reached the white sign ahead. "No, you won't," she said. I have a fear of authority figures or something, so I kept running, realizing that whatever was keeping me from disappointing Jen right now was the same sheer, motivating fear of disappointing people that got me through AP Calculus in high school. I kept running, trying to ignore the yippy little dog that had actually outpaced me at this point.
"I-hate-that-stupid-little-dog," I finally muttered, and Jen reminded me that we didn't know when it had actually started the race. (Thank you, Jen.) Only the downhill to go. I couldn't remember if a 5K was 3.1 or 3.01 miles, but it was that little "1" that was killing me now. "Just down the hill," she said, and then she made actual conversation with people along the way.
I'd like to say that the end of the race was glorious and thrilling, but for the first half hour after it I just concentrated on not being sick. Then I concentrated on finding my car and my phone so I could check in on my family. Then I concentrated on not getting lost on my way home from Virginia and then I prayed/concentrated on not running out of gas when the little light went on and there were no turnoffs on the GW Parkway.
Several hours have passed now, however, and I'm thrilled. The kids are fine, and I met my goal of running the whole way and not being last. (Thanks to Jen for that part.) We actually ran it in 30.10, which is better than my goal!
I can't say I love running, but I did love calling myself a "runner" today, accomplishing a goal, and getting to wear athletic fashion and an official bib, of course. Who knows? Maybe there will be another running blog post soon.
Since this is a fashion blog, I need to mention that I had planned my outfit in advance, so it wasn't too hard to get dressed quickly, even while trying to sneak around with a 2 yr-old shouting, "Are you handsome? Where we going?" the whole time I dressed in the dark. I put on my Lucy pants, the Under Armour Shirt my older son encouraged me to purchase, a pair of actually matching white socks, and my awesome Mizuno running shoes that I bought from Amazon. (I could write a whole blog post about running shoes, of course, but I picked these because they were the only ones that supposedly had cushion for middle-aged knees AND support for pronation and I remember my ballet teacher telling me not to pronate when I was 9.) Fortunately, I grabbed a jacket and hat, too, because it was FREEZING.
I moved our 10 year-old "teenager" out of his bed and on to the living room couch, told him he was in charge, turned on Sesame Street for the toddler, and left. Then it was just a matter of finding Arlington, Virginia, which is not exactly my specialty, and I tried not to be too spooked by the signs saying "Turkey Run," "Dead Run," and other creepy Run things along the way.
Now, I need to add that a friend of mine, Jen, asked if I wanted to meet up before the race and I basically said no. "I kind of want to do this by myself," I told her over Facebook ("because I might end up walking or throwing up and I don't want anyone I know to see the wreckage," I thought in my head.) But she insisted, so I met her, some friends of hers, and her teenage son at Starbucks before the race.
I'll admit publicly now that I actually tried to shake her at one point when I waited in line for the bathroom, but when I emerged about 2 minutes before the race, there she was--smiling and waving encouragingly, her other friends long gone. (Jen is the same woman who forced me to leave the house and breastfeed my first newborn in the Nordstrom's bathroom 10 years ago, so although I don't see her often, it somehow seems appropriate that she was there for this race.)
I actually skipped over the drama that happened before finding Jen, when I ran up and down a million sets of stairs and hallways in the Pentagon Mall trying to find the check-in place. Then I had to dump my stuff in the car, pee, figure out what to do with my car keys, pin my number on, go to the wrong Starbucks, run to the right Starbucks, etc. So I was kind of winded before we even started.
When we finally joined the crowd of racers already lined up, I was actually incredibly relieved to have a friend with me to show me where to stand. Then, right as we started, she told me about the hill. HILL? Nobody mentioned a hill, but there it was: right at the beginning, stretching on for miles (or, to be more precise, WAY less than a mile, as I found out later.)
I told Jen to go on ahead, REALLY, I'll do the hill on my own. But she stuck with me, reminding me that what goes up, must go down at some point. Believe it or not, the hill itself wasn't so bad. Someone even had a sign that said "Hurry or you'll miss Downtown Abbey," and that made me smile.
Then we started seeing these happy-runner-cheer-people-going in the opposite direction, and I felt touched that they were cheering us on. But then Jen explained that those runners had actually TURNED AROUND already and were running the same race. Cute. Real cute. It didn't take an economist to figure out that this meant we weren't even halfway there. I informed her that I wouldn't be talking anymore.
This is when the Ailment Phase began. My doctor told me recently that I have very low Vitamin D levels, and just before Mile 2, I suddenly realized that I never googled what could happen to someone if they ran a race with too little Vitamin D. Plus I have low blood pressure, which means I can pass out pretty easily, and I don't think the stitches from my C-sections ever fully healed. In fact, my C-section scar was really starting to hurt. "A little over a mile to go," Jen quipped, as if that were a good thing.
Then I started wheezing a little, which reminded me of my poor son. And I suddenly realized that this was G-d's punishment for being selfish and running a 5K when my CHILD had been in the ER the night before! It was clear as day--I am a terrible person and I am going to pass out in this race. What am I even doing here when my son is sick? I must have made a face because Jen told me to keep going.
We were circling back now, and I could see that other people were still on the first leg of the U, so I wasn't last. Then came the Indian Food Phase. Yes, I had Indian Food the night before my first 5K. (Yeah, yeah--my sick son said the only thing he could eat were Mango Lassis.) I regretted this meal choice immediately after eating it last night, but my husband made me feel better by saying that everyone in India eats Indian food before THEIR 5Ks, right? I'm not sure if that's true, but it was pretty much my mantra at this point in the race.
Then I'd had it. I panted to Jen that I was going to walk until I reached the white sign ahead. "No, you won't," she said. I have a fear of authority figures or something, so I kept running, realizing that whatever was keeping me from disappointing Jen right now was the same sheer, motivating fear of disappointing people that got me through AP Calculus in high school. I kept running, trying to ignore the yippy little dog that had actually outpaced me at this point.
"I-hate-that-stupid-little-dog," I finally muttered, and Jen reminded me that we didn't know when it had actually started the race. (Thank you, Jen.) Only the downhill to go. I couldn't remember if a 5K was 3.1 or 3.01 miles, but it was that little "1" that was killing me now. "Just down the hill," she said, and then she made actual conversation with people along the way.
I'd like to say that the end of the race was glorious and thrilling, but for the first half hour after it I just concentrated on not being sick. Then I concentrated on finding my car and my phone so I could check in on my family. Then I concentrated on not getting lost on my way home from Virginia and then I prayed/concentrated on not running out of gas when the little light went on and there were no turnoffs on the GW Parkway.
Several hours have passed now, however, and I'm thrilled. The kids are fine, and I met my goal of running the whole way and not being last. (Thanks to Jen for that part.) We actually ran it in 30.10, which is better than my goal!
I can't say I love running, but I did love calling myself a "runner" today, accomplishing a goal, and getting to wear athletic fashion and an official bib, of course. Who knows? Maybe there will be another running blog post soon.