Never again will I sign up for a 5K. That was my stance on running local 5K races for the last 15 or so years. I’ve possessed zero desire to fork over anywhere from 20 to 40 bucks (entry fees have skyrocketed!) for the opportunity to run for less than 30 minutes when I could easily run for an hour or two on my own for free. Sure, signing up for a race comes with the bonus T-shirt, but even that didn’t appeal to me anymore. The thing is, I’ve run a ridiculous amount of 5Ks in my lifetime — some of them pretty damn fast. As a high school cross country runner, I competed at that distance twice a week for several years. Then add a year of college cross-country to the mix along with all of the summer 5Ks I ran for “fun” as part of training, and that makes quite a long list.
In my 20s, I found myself on the starting line of countless local 5Ks trying to prove to myself that I was still a decent runner. I often ran with a chip on my shoulder and took myself way too seriously. If I didn’t win my age group I’d be bummed, but if I failed to place in the top three, I’d actually be pissed. I don’t know what I thought placing at a local 5K would actually prove, but I believed there was definitely something. Eventually though, with that attitude, it became something I dreaded because knowing I’ll never run as fast as I did in high school is a bummer.
The pre-race vibes are something I’ve always loved — especially as a coach and parent of two cross country runners. There’s an infectious energy as people gather, pin on their race bib, warm up and anticipate the start. It’s extremely motivating and inspiring to be amongst hundreds of people getting ready to leave it all out there on the race course. But when I was a participant, my hyper competitive mind prevented me from fully enjoying the moment as I nervously scoped out my competition. Perhaps I felt I needed to prove to the world I was still capable, even though I had quit cross country to swim, and never pursued running seriously in college. Maybe those 5Ks in my 20s were an attempt at redemption. It never really worked, though, because life got in the way and I could never run as fast as I did in high school. So eventually, I swore them off completely and turned my attention to something new so I couldn’t compare my performance to my younger self.
Soon half marathons and marathons became my race of choice. My resume at these distances is short and very unimpressive, but as I trained I fell in love with longer distances that provided the opportunity to go slower and farther. Long runs evolved into a time of prayer, a break from the kids or an opportunity to drag them along on long runs in the stroller where we played iSpy or told silly stories. Eventually I competed in a local ultra (50K/31 miles) trail run where I finished last, but still loved every moment of running in the woods all day. My mindset shifted as I learned to let go of performance and pace. Instead, I grew to appreciate the challenge and adventure of long distances.
After running more than 30 miles, it seemed almost silly to pay $30 to run only 3. Typically I wouldn’t even bother lacing up for only 3 miles. It just wasn’t enjoyable. People from my run club would often ask me to enter local races with them, and even though they were for a charitable cause, I could never bring myself to do it. The expense and the prospect of having an official 5K time after all these years (did I really want to know how slow I was?) was enough for me to declare I was done forever.
Fast-forward a year to this Thanksgiving. We had just settled into our new house in a new town when, a few days before Thanksgiving, my son sent me a link to the local Turkey Trot followed by a beckoning question mark. Being in a new environment, I have been running alone, missing my running friends and wondering what I was going to do on Thanksgiving morning. I hoped to convince my family to start a run together, in an attempt to create a sense of camaraderie. Curious, I opened the link and discovered that the course was very close to our house, was very well attended and the entry fee was only $25. I reached out to the race director to see if there were any T-shirts left (there were) and she informed me that almost 900 people had signed up. I have no idea why, but suddenly I was excited and before I knew it I was picking up our race bibs and T-shirts. The fact that it was a turkey trot took the pressure off of it being a 5K. It was Thanksgiving morning and there was an opportunity to run with a lot of people. Something about it was different in my mind.
Overall, it was a great experience. Seeing hundreds of people walking and running around as we made our way to the start was thrilling. Especially at a Turkey Trot where the whole point is to have fun. My husband and I warmed up together, took some selfies because we couldn’t believe we were actually running a race again, and enjoyed seeing runners all decked out in their Thanksgiving gear, families huddling together to keep warm, parents reminding their little kids not to go out too fast, and the crowds of people who showed up on a freezing cold Thanksgiving morning just to run.
I haven’t run a hard 3 miles in ages and it showed. But I went in with very low expectations and a half hearted goal of breaking 30 minutes. More than anything I really wanted to savor a morning run with a sea of people while trying to push myself. With that I succeeded. It was exhilarating.
As fate would have it my timing chip never registered. I have no clue why. Shortly after the race my son and husband got emails with their official times and places. I kept checking for mine, but it never came. Finally I searched the results only to find a DNS next to my name. WHAT?!?! (Of course, I wore my watch and had an unofficial time of 28:35 which I could live with). I’m not gonna lie though. The fact that I had no official time or place bummed me out. It was like I was never there. (Trust me, my mind went to some crazy places with that thought!) But maybe it was a great reminder, a sort of exclamation point, as to why I chose to run in the first place. What mattered was being out there with my family challenging ourselves on a day that celebrates everything we have to be thankful for. And if you know my story, you know how grateful I am for even having the ability to run at all. I don’t need an official time or place for that. And I didn’t get one. I could almost feel God smiling at my circumstance, saying “See. You can’t get mad at an official place or time if you don’t have one. It was never about that. And you still had a great experience.” The absurdity of my old mindset was crystal clear in that moment.
So maybe more 5Ks are in my future. Turns out there’s another one on New Year’s Eve a mile from my house that my whole family just entered. Maybe I’ll use this opportunity to wake up my muscles and attempt to get a little faster. It felt great to push myself and appreciate that my 55 year-old body that has been through hell is still very capable.
I’ve always wanted to run a race on NYE. The vibes will be great. The camaraderie will be awesome. And the guaranteed long sleeve T-shirt? Can’t complain about that! I’ll wear my new shirts proudly as I remind myself of what’s actually important. Four years ago I thought I’d never run again. Now I get to celebrate the gift that was returned to me and express my gratitude, alongside a community full of people who have their own reasons for running. There’s no better way to start a holiday!