Speaking of run, on Thanksgiving I officially ran 10K, my first race ever. It still amazes me that six months ago I couldn’t run a minute without wanting to die, and five days ago I ran for an hour and 5 minutes through the streets of Cincinnati and northern Kentucky without stopping. I was proud of my time considering it was my first race and 25 degrees outside (-4 C), but I looked at the results and saw an 81-year-old man beat me. I guess that’s just motivation to go faster and try harder next time. I’m not sure when my next race will be, but I have a feeling my first won’t be my last. I really enjoyed the race atmosphere, the two guys dressed as pilgrims in a boat screaming, “You just got passed by a boat,” the high-fives and encouragement from random strangers as well as my family along the course, and that final sprint to the finish. I have no idea where that energy came from, but I gunned it at the end. So much that I finished disoriented and went right past the place to cut off my chip timer. Did I have enough energy to do the whole course again, which would equate to a half marathon? I don’t think so, but then again I never thought I’d be capable of 10K.
(I am wearing two thermal tops, the official race shirt, a jacket, thermal pants, leggings, shorts and a South Park scarf. The only parts of me that were cold were my hands until I scored free handwarmers and my feet until I got running. There was a lot of standing around time beforehand because we got there over an hour early because we are race noobs and thought there wouldn’t be enough parking at the Bengals stadium.)