Long - xpost: 5 K Race Report
This is a slightly edited post from my blog. If you are so inclined, you can visit it at http://lindafederman.wordpress.com/ if you want to see pictures, or read more.
I’m going to start at the end, in case you don’t make it all the way through…
My Medal for Last Place of 203 runners: Says "Save the Best for Last." But my hat says: "You don't have to go fast. You just have to go."
I ran the American Heart Association’s 5K (3 miles) in 53 minutes and 30 seconds. I ran every step of the way, minus five steps walking (details further on). And I got a medal – out of 203 runners, I was last. My medal says: “Save the best for last – Female – AHA 5k run 10-10-10)." I don’t know that I’ve ever been prouder of anything I’ve ever earned.
Please don’t read any hint of despair into this. I couldn’t be happier about the whole experience. Even (not in spite of) coming in last. Who does everyone remember, after all? The first – and the last. That’s me…
So here’s the full account.
It was chilly this morning, about 37 degrees, but very clear. I wore my TNT short sleeve shirt, my long sleeve wicking t-shirt (see more about that below), a knit hat, gloves, and a fleece-lined performance pullover. We got to the American Heart Associations’s run/walk at a little after 8 (after stopping for a requisite Starbucks) and signed in.
I pinned on my number (53) and we walked around looking at the tables and listening to music for a bit. The crowd grew as it approached the 9:15 start time for runners, and it warmed up a little bit. I shed the gloves, and eventually the pullover. I was glad it was warm enough to do that, so I could show off my great t-shirt. Thanks OneMoreMile.net!
I met a woman who was walking around taking pictures of the participants. She took my picture, and I told her a little bit of my story. She (a slim blonde herself) told me that she also had bypass surgery, and after dealing with a string of complications, was healthy and down over a 100 pounds. She told me about her own experiences running, and we both started to cry. I had to walk away before I lost it completely. I found her after I finished and we hugged and cried like two old sorority sisters. I think her name was Courtney and I want to thank her for making that connection with me.
Life-long athletes don’t get it. They don’t know what it means to go from being the person that I was to the person I am now. I used to look at runners and wonder why the hell would anyone want to do that? Now not only do I understand, but I’m doing it myself. It is an incredible transformation.
I stood near the starting line with the other runners, getting psyched, getting ready. I queued up Tears For Fears on my iPod, and when the horn sounded, we were off…
I could tell I was going a bit faster than usual in the first quarter mile or so, because I was breathing a little heavier than usual. But the crowd quickly slipped past me, and I fell to the rear. I didn’t care at all. I found my pace and stayed there.
I’m rarely at a loss for words, but this is one time I feel that language fails me. I am stretching for how to describe what this race was like, and even if I did it eloquently, I don’t think I could really communicate what I was thinking or feeling.
Three words came to my mind as I trotted along: Enthusiasm, joy, determination.
Enthusiasm: I had always grumbled and hated doing anything physical. It was a chore, an effort. There was never any pleasure in it for me, nor could I ever see myself getting to the point where it could be. But now I’m “into" it. I find great pleasure in moving, in being outdoors, in the connection I make with my mind and my body in those moments.
Joy: I found it a little disconcerting when I saw the front runners heading towards me on their way back to the finish. But then I saw the turn-around point ahead of me, and I couldn’t believe I was already halfway there. I wasn’t fatigued, or challenged, or thinking that I couldn’t go on. I waved to the cop at the turnaround, pumped my hands in the air and shouted: “I’m the caboose!"
Determination: When the thought of slowing to a walk tickled at my brain, I instantly told it: “There is NO way I’m walking, and there is NO way I’m not making it to the finish." It was just not negotiable. People talk about the last leg being the hardest, because your eyes see the finish, and your body says: “Hey, we did it. We’ve done enough. We can just stop now. We’re close enough." I felt that too, when I saw the last turn in the distance. And it’s definitely more of a sensation than a conscious decision. These are the moments where the mental strength kicks in. And mine did.
I was really having a great time. I was thrilled to feel what my body is capable of. I was delighted to be among all these other people, smiling, waving and saying good morning to everyone who made eye contact with me.
At one point, I heard three people laughing behind me; a middle-aged guy, a 20-something woman, and a teenage girl. As they passed me, the woman said: “Wish granted!" in response to my t-shirt slogan (“Dear God please let there be someone behind me to read this!) I said: “Not for long!" and we all laughed. They said they were going to slow to a walk pretty soon, and I’d probably pass them. I told them I wasn’t so sure. But we did eventually see each other further down, and we chatted a little bit each time. Near the end, the man and younger girl were a little behind me. I told them (jokingly, I thought at the time, because I really didn’t think I’d end up dead last!) that I was not about to let them challenge me for the booby prize (and honestly, I didn’t really think there was such a thing!)
There were a couple of heavier girls who didn’t pass me until the later portion of the race, but pass me they did. And I “woot-wooted" and “you go girl-ed!" all of them. I was proud of them, even though I didn’t know them at all. I give them a lot of credit. When I was heavy, I never would have attempted anything like this.
Whenever I started to think about the distance left ahead, I did a system check. Body temperature: comfortable. Breathing: increased but sustainable. Pulse: steady. New sports bra: excellent (Bali underwire, for anyone who is curious. Two “thumbs" up!) Legs, feet: fine. No reason to stop, all systems are operating well.
When I did round that last turn, and I could see the tents and the finish line come into view, my emotions overwhelmed me. I literally choked up, and in combination with my increased breathing from the physical exertion, I started to hyperventilate. I tried to keep pushing, but as I gasped and struggled for breath my legs started to feel like noodles, and I decided I’d better wal****il I could regain control. It took just 5 steps, and then I was fine. I thought, “I’ll be damned if I am going to pass out just a few dozen feet from the finish line!"
I resumed my run (trot?) and when I entered the aisle of cones that lead to the finish, I pumped my fists and let out a whoop!
I crossed at 53:30, and then I practically fell over in tears.
After a few minutes of calming down and drinking water, my husband ran into a friend and we were talking with him and his wife. In the background, I heard the announcers reading the names of the winners of different categories, and then I heard them say my name.
As I approached the stage, I said “Oh my God, did I win the booby prize?" Everyone laughed, and they put the medal on me. It’s not important WHEN I finished, only THAT I finished. This was a huge accomplishment for someone who – at 5’0″ tall – once weighed 280 lbs, could barely make it off the couch, and was ready to give up on a life full of blessings and good fortune.
...And speaking of good fortune. I want to thank my cheerleader, my heart, my husband, for being there at the start and at the end. A great metaphor for our whole marriage.
There’s a line in the Tears For Fears’ song “Ladybird" that goes: “…we die sometimes to begin again…" I hear that in my head a lot. I am like the phoenix.
I. friggin’. Did. It.
I would expect another TFF's song for you "SHOUT !! SHOUT !! LET IT ALL OUT" ... if I did what you did I would be screaming at the top of my lungs!!!
Tom
“Nothing I will ever eat will give me the feeling I get as when I lose weight” The views expressed are based on my own experiences - and should NOT BE FOLLOWED IN LIEU OF DOCTOR’S ADVICE/INSTRUCTIONS. Only your Doctor knows your condition, and make sure you talk to them before making any changes to your diet
