5K

I ran a 5k race this past weekend…well actually I would call it more of a 5k run.  I don’t consider what I did to be “racing.”  I kept pace with a guy that had a bum knee, or maybe it was a bum hamstring.  Heck, it was probably both.  My moment of glory came when I passed said gimp with about 800 meters to go and pumped my chest out as I crossed the finish line Boston marathon style.  It felt good!  It was the first time that I’ve run an organized event since giving birth in February.  It was good for my soul.  Running is one of those things that has just grown on me over the last 16 years.  I don’t love it, but I simply like it enough to keep pounding the pavement.  I started running when I was 15 to get in shape for basketball season.  Realizing my volleyball career was going nowhere (shocking, I know), I decided to try cross country.  I really enjoyed it and actually got somewhat decent at it by training really hard and learning how to mentally fight through “the wall.” 

The best part of the day was after the race when my three year old told me that I was running too fast when they saw me at the half way point.  She was trying to catch me but my speed was just too intense for her.  “Yes, darling, I know mommy is fast.  I hope you one day experience what it feels like to single handedly dominate a 45 year old man who is at half strength.”  Sweet victory!