I had very low expectations for this 5k.
For one, I haven’t been feeling the running lately.
For another, I celebrated my dear friend Amy’s birthday last night with a group of friends. I had the best of intentions as we headed to their house. I’m an adult. I can socialize with a group of friends and still be a responsible athlete, right?
This is a rough timeline of the sequence of decision-making:
6:30pm: Arrive at Amy’s house. Decline her husband’s offer of a cocktail and responsibly choose a La Croix (sparkling water), instead.
7:15pm: Agree to one cocktail while declining the less-healthy mozzarella sticks and loading up on the (fairly healthy) pasta dish that I brought.
9:15pm: Accept a slice of birthday cake.
9:38pm: Realizing that a reasonable bed-time for my early wake-up alarm was not going to happen (given the raucous game of Cards Against Humanity), accept a second cocktail.
You get the idea.
So, that is to say, that when I arrived at the race event shortly after 7am, I had made peace with the strong likelihood that my 2015 goal of breaking 30 minutes for a 5k was probably not in the near future.
Regardless, it was wonderful to see my dear friend Tyra Damm, fearless leader of our team.
David Brooks wrote about people who radiate an inner light. Those who seem deeply good, and make the world a better place, and us better people for knowing them. My friend Tyra is like that. I have said more than one time that I want to be Tyra when I grow up.
She lost her husband Steve to brain cancer over 5 years ago, right as we became friends. Somehow, someway, she is warm, and caring, and full of grace, despite her loss. I think the world of her.
Team Damm does, too.
So, really, I wasn’t too worried about not breaking 30 minutes this morning. Actually, I was feeling pretty lucky and happy, having spent the evening laughing-until-I-cried with some of my dearest friends, and then beginning my Mother’s Day weekend with a run honoring my friend’s husband.
The run did not feel good. I did not feel strong, or fast, or particularly in shape. Before I even completed one mile, my mouth had that cotton-dehydration feeling (#thanksTrey), and my stomach was not amused. As I approached the final curve before the 3 mile marker, with the finish line commotion growing louder, I thought I might be sick.
But I also saw on my Garmin that I was close.
Turns out? It was a pretty good race.