Mothers Day 10K

 

Local racing is making a comeback. 

Two years ago I ran this same 10K Mother's Day race in the rain and the mud. This year I seriously debated whether or not to run it again. I signed up for it in 2019. This past year I have kept up with running 5Ks in my neighborhood, but a 10K race is (by nature of its name) twice as far.

I was really tempted to skip it. As my day was off to the wrong foot, I was even more ready to turn around and go home. I didn't put the cap securely on my thermos, so it leaked tea all over my sneakers (which I was running too late to put on before the drive) and my gaiter, and I scraped my mirror on the Washington Crossing Bridge (I wish they would use the traffic light and make that a one way at a time bridge).

Modifications had to be made including wearing masks at the start and finish (but not during the race) and each one of us receiving our own start time too avoid clustering at the front. It is amazing how that little change messes with the psychology of running. Makes it feel as if you are running by yourself. Much less passing and jostling for place. They also did away with water stops. The plan was to have a pump with water at two places, but that was scrapped when they broke the spigot. Instead they had jugs for us to refill. As it was a cool day, I did not carry water on the route.

We were reminded that two years ago it poured during the same race, so we were ahead of the game.

The course is basically the same as their 4-mile Tomato Soup Race, but with an extra spin through the Spiral of Death. Most of the course is along the tow path.

I went into this with the game plan of running the first half, and walking the second half. By the two mile mark, though I found myself power walking. Ugh. Then running. Then walking. Without a schedule, though. Motivation was waning.

I made the turn around at a clock time of 40 minutes (a chip time of 37, still slower than normal for me). 

Mostly ahead of me (sometimes behind me) was a woman I could hear cheering for the other runners. At one point I saw her stop. There was a blue heron in her way on the path. We both stopped to take pictures. Don told me later when he sees a blue heron on a ride, he knows he is going to have a good day (self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps?). 

The same race also had a 10 mile component (so very glad I did not sign up for that!). I noticed before the turn around that there were not too many 10K runners. I actually had a shot at getting an award. I kept a close eye on the "competition." I could not pass the woman ahead of me (turns out she was in her thirties, so not competition). Just behind me was a woman power walking with her husband. 

They provided me with the motivation I needed to scrap my initial plan and keep running!

I finished before the couple! Turns out they were in their 60s, so not really competition, but it worked nonetheless.

When I crossed the finish line (wearing my mask) the EMT ordered me to take off the mask until I caught my breath. I heard him tell others the same thing. 

At the finish line was water -- good thing given how my day started.

I stuck around for the awards ceremony and was pleased to hear my name called for third place (for my age group -- the race third place person was about half my speed).

Looking at the stats later, I beat my real competitor by three minutes. So, yes, I was third out of four.

I also learned only 87 of the 210 people who signed up for the race showed up. In two years, plans change, plus they only sent out the reminder a week ahead of the race. This past year has felt like at least five years have passed.

In the end, the heron was right: it was a good day.