What If God Says No : 183

Saturday was the “big race”, the 5k I decided to run when I started the Couch to 5k program six weeks ago. I’m not done with the program and I have a (long) ways to go until I can run 3.1 miles, but I signed up anyways.

* * *

The Thursday before the race I was at Starbucks with a coworker doing network and connectivity testing on our laptops. Really, we were. We got to talking about our plans for the weekend and I told her about the race. While we were talking I realized that the last “race” I had done was more than six years ago.

After mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer we started participating in the OROC event. For four years I ran the 5k, but that last year mom wasn't doing very well, so we all did the one mile family fun walk together. We lost her just three weeks later and none of us has ever done that or any other race since.

* * *

I used to run a lot and have done dozens of road races, anywhere from a 5k to a half marathon. I’m not sure why I was so excited about doing this. Perhaps it is because I finally feel like I have turned a corner in doing healthy things for myself and I like it.

* * *

Saturday was icky. That’s the highly scientific and meteorological word for it. Icky. The temperature was in the mid-forties and it was raining.

After picking up my race packet we had about forty-five minutes until the race started. We introduced ourselves to the parish’s pastor and fellow blogger, Fr. V. After that we decided that it was too wet and cold to wait outside so we wandered over to the church and rested there for a bit. Unknowingly, we sat down right next to the St. Sebastian statue. Of course, once I saw that, what’s a good Catholic girl to do but light a candle!

* * *

After a prayer and the national anthem the race started with the crack of a gun. We were off.

And my legs felt like lead.

This seemed like a good idea when I signed up two weeks ago.

The air was heavy and I felt like I couldn't get a good breath in.

I ran then I walked. Then I ran again.

* * *

The crowd of almost 200 runners thinned out. Some were behind and most were ahead. I played lots of mind games.

I’ll run to that tree and then walk some.

Usually I didn't make it to the tree. I walked sooner. For only a 5k I did a lot of walking!

Running the roads is much harder than running on the treadmill!

* * *

But with all that walking and slow running there was a lot of time to think and to observe. The neighborhood we ran through was older, houses probably built in the 40's and 50's, but very well kept up. Several of the roads were red brick. People there like their gardens. Large, old growth trees and flowers were in abundance.

People also seemed to be happy to have the runners come by. No one seemed put out that they were inconvenienced by having their roads closed for several hours. Families were in their yards cheering the runners on. A young girl tooted a horn as people ran by. A middle aged man had his truck’s stereo blasting some motivating music. An old man with his bulldog encouraged us; he thanked us for running in his neighborhood!

* * *

I had no idea how I was doing since there were no timers at the one and two mile splits. I told Himself that I hoped to finish in under forty-five minutes. I began to doubt that time when I got lapped by the young man who went on the win the race.