Stormin' the Bastille

Last Thursday I ran in my first 5k and the race went something like this:

I got home from work around 5:30 and contemplated just staying home. I was tired and wasn't feeling too hot because my yoga class the day before kicked my buns will all it's strength poses and extreme hip work. Instead, I changed, ate a granola bar, then headed up to my friend's house so we could carpool down together. Along the way we picked up a 3rd gal to round out our running duo. We parked a few blocks away from the festivities and walked down to register. We spent a few hours wandering the festival, contemplating the food and the potential it had to either help or hurt our case. We opted for the second even though my stomach was hungry and protested this choice loudly. We looked in vain for the 4th member of our running crew. We braved the port-o-potties. We headed over to the start around 8pm and began a series of hop-in-place-and stretch to warm up. It got hotter as it got darker and more humid. Then it was 9pm and time to go. They were late. Grr....About 5,000 people showed up to run. We were pushed together like sardines. I got claustrophobic, but didn't want to say anything because there was nothing anyone could do. Some fanfare sounded, which I assume meant the race started, but we didn't actually get to move for another few minutes because there were so many people. We finally started moving and I got a cramp in my calf because I'd been balancing on tip toe to see over everyone's head so I could figure out what was going on. Then the cramp moved to my side as we headed up hill. A few blocks later, someone cut me off and at the last minute moved so all I saw was a giant cone--the big round kind--seconds before I almost ran into. Thankfully, I missed it, but I'm slightly embarrassed (and a little impressed) that I screamed like a little girl when I saw it. I kept running for a while longer, then my foot cramped up and my back began to ache. At that point I was limping, so I opted to finish the race on the walking route (2 miles) instead of facing another 1.5 miles uphill. I'm a wimp, I know. I made it to the end of the race with all the fast runners, so people probably thought I rocked it. I got some water, but then there were too many people running in to get any more. Did I mention it was still 80 degrees with 90% humidity?? Met up with the other gals. They had actually finished the race. They have been running longer than 2 months though. We got lemonade and frozen strawberry slush for a whopping $7.00. We sat on the grass and ate it. We smelled wonderful, by the way--a pungent combo of bug spray, sun screen, and sweat. We headed back to the car, dropped off the 3rd team member at her posh downtown place, then weaved our way back through the city to my friend's house. I got in my car and drove home. It was midnight. I showered, then felt the urge to clean. I finally made it to bed around 1am. While drifting to sleep I thought about the race. "How could I have stopped running?" I wondered. By then I felt fine. By then my muscles had forgotten how they cramped and started overheating. By then my body had forgotten that if you haven't run in 10 years and decide to run a 5k in 2 months outside without running outside as part of the training it's probably not going to feel all the great. By Friday morning I had already picked out my next 5k. It's August 7th. More heat. More humidity. At least it's on Saturday in the morning for a good cause (spina bifida) and will probably not be full of drunken, reveling idiots who decide to run next to you and cut you off. At least I hope it won't be, because after all this IS Milwaukee. And if there's anything that Milwaukeeans like it's their drunken reveling.

So what will I do now? Continue training of course. Running 3x a week OUTSIDE on the course if possible, along with a combo of pilates/yoga/body pump and an occasional Zumba class for good measure. Wish me luck!