Photo credit: Jason Shoup (Courtesy Subaru Niagara Running Series)
Race: Peach Bud 5K June 24, 2014
Result: 22:55 (1st age F45-49)
By: Melissa MacKinnon
During the two hour drive to Grimsby both passengers in our car silently acknowledged the possibility. Would the race be rained out? Up until today, training weather had been dry and cool. Yet today the air was thick with thundershowers in the forecast. No race? Well, the race fees would support a local hospital.
I needed a snack. A chocolate-covered energy bar was one-fifth eaten as I marvelled at the ever changing sky. My hot hand melted the rest of the bar into a mass of goo.
We arrived one hour before the 5k race start, early enough to get one of the last parking spots beside the Peach King Centre. We collected our bibs and warmed up. I did 2k easy; Dan ran the 5k course. I asked for a review of it. He hesitantly said, “It’s alright. Starts with a bit of downhill…”
Dark clouds lurked heavy and imminent; we’d be soggy soon. I’d always avoided starting a run in the rain.
By the time we lined up at the start, the sky would give way to to the lightest drizzle…
“That was the 3k mark, wasn’t it?” I hoped. Heavy raindrops now coated my glasses. Why, oh why, would a race route start out downhill and then mercilessly turn uphill? My legs burned as if I’d been running up the steep slope of doom (Rosebank Road, just north of Finch, in Pickering). Would we stop taking our training runs up that hill?! No.
How could I run another 2k? I. Could. Stop. Yes, I thought, maybe… I’ll stop. Imagining the shame and disappointment of that outcome kept me moving. I had not seen runners with bibs attached forefront suddenly cease and leave the race – jump over the side or calmly backtrack to the start after considering: “Oh, I’m just not feeling this 5k or 10k race right now”. (Of course, injury would justify a DNF). I was not going to be among the few to quit a short race. We wobbled forward, like arrows toward their targets. I just hoped mine would hit the bull’s eye – a better finish time.
There was a sign – oh no, this was the actual 3k mark! I marched on with heavy feet, afraid of slipping on the slick pavement. A water station was just ahead. I approached a cluster of hands thrust out with cups and unappealing wet sponges. Maybe they should have kept the the sponges dry?
Suddenly a male runner overtook me too closely; perhaps he, too, was blinded by the rain?. To avoid him, I stepped into the path of oncoming hands and met a sponge in the face. I continued on.
As I turned toward the finish, Dan (my husband and first running mate) kindly yelled from the sideline. “Come on Melissa – you can make it under 23 if you just lift your legs.” I briefly considered complaining that the beet juice wasn’t working, but instead pretended not to notice him. Maybe it was a mix of determination and envy? He had broken the race tape 6 minutes ago, which was likely the moment at which I realized I could no longer move my legs beyond a shuffle. Was I paying for my fast start? Or, was it the Sunday long run? Did it matter? I was, in the end, simply, content to be active – running!
The happy sight of the finish area lined with cheering people sparked my legs and arms. I had to brave a dignified end with a few decent strides.
A loud speaker delivered the names of runners passing the finish line, along with their home towns, yet I didn’t hear mine. Perhaps Pickering is too far away? More likely, I didn’t notice in the sheer joy at being finished!
First for my age and a minute faster than my previous 5k! Suddenly, a few minutes of pain was all worth it! I kept moving toward the food offering in the arena. The race people had the area neatly gated at either end – I supposed, to control consumption. I took a can of Coke, although the pizza smelled absolutely lovely. Completely soaked in rainwater and sweat, I thought about the beginning of the race…
We lined up, waited, and watched the sky darken. Padding feed echoed the start signal! In the heat and humidity we welcomed the light drizzle. Dan was bouncing ahead as I sprinted to match his pace, encouraged by the downhill.
I checked my watch: kilometer #1 was 4:00 flat. I smiled.
The second km to downtown Grimsby was less downhill – 4:20. As we approached a right turn, the first uphill and a rush of runners met and rushed past me. I lost sight of Dan and slowed in exhaustion. This would soon become misery.
Like that first bite of the energy bar, some things are simply best at the start: gum, before it loses its flavour; a large bucket of hot buttered popcorn…need I say more; going out too fast in a 5K race!
