This past Sunday Tom and I ran in the 5 mile Father's Day Race in Shaker Heights where we used to live. It's a great event. Lots of fun for Dad's and kids. Balloon animals, ice cream. Really it's so well done. We may make it an annual trip to Ohio just because it's so fun.
Jeremy did the Kids Sprint. I was overcome by emotion watching him "run" his very first road race -a 100 meter. He was so excited he wanted to run it again. I was impressed considering he won't be 3 until August.
All of this was so great. But there is a sad personal part to this story that I feel I have to talk about. To cut to the chase, I was the last person to finish the 5 mile. This is the third year we have done the race, and I have never even been close to being last. I even ran it last year pregnant and had a slower time than this year and although I was near the end of the pack, I was not the slowest and I passed people. This year, there were no 5 mile walkers. There were apparently no 5 mile pokey puppies either.
So my finish was pretty disappointing to say the least. At least I was running right? Still rankles.
Also, my husband ran the race pushing both of the boys and did 9 minute miles with NO training... Congrats Dad... So happy for him, but sigh
I did however finish the course while it was still "open". This is the first year I did not have to go up on the sidewalk at the end and wait for traffic lights instead of having a police escort across the intersections at the end.
Tonight my plan was to prove to myself that I am faster than my Sunday turtle speed. I ran 2 miles as fast as I could and still hold the 2 miles without walking. I had a 10:17 pace. That's not too bad. My lungs and legs burned a little bit, but it wasn't horrible. I think I have finally put the didn't eat breakfast-pokey turtle-finish last-disappointment race to bed. I guess if you run a lot you are going to have bad days and bad finishes.
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