20 Years of Road Races
Yesterday we celebrated the holidays and three birthdays all rolled into one terrific brunch at our friends George and Li's house in Carmel Mountain Ranch. Prior to pigging out, we ran 5 miles (well, I ran 4.7 and really I walked the last .2 because I was done with those hills).
I had on the first race T-shirt I ever "won" -- from a Jingle Bell Run in Washington, D.C., on Dec. 6, 1992. Wearing it yesterday, I suddenly realized this was my 20th anniversary of entering a race. I'd been running off and on much longer than that, but that morning changed the direction of my running.
I'd run for years but with no concept of pace or mileage. I ran purely for fun in high school and college and later to lose the baby fat after two children in rapid succession. I ran through historic neighborhoods of Antebellum homes, along demonic-dog-infested country roads and even once encountered a bear.
It wasn't until we were again living in Elizabeth City, N.C., that my sister, then living in northern Virginia, invited me to join her for a road race. She told me I'd either cross it off my list or become hooked. I remember being terrorized by the distance, the bitter cold and the crowds. There were thousands of runners in tights, not sweat pants and a sweat shirt like me. I definitely looked like a newbie, even if I ended up returning near the front of the field of my race.
Road races put a framework around my workouts and 11 months after that race, with a few more 5ks and 10ks under our belts, my sister and I were circling the same area with 16,000 others in the Marine Corps Marathon. And then, of course, it became all about topping the last time with another marathon.
I am now reverting back to my former self, running for fun and to lose the menopause fat. The neighborhoods are now tract homes and the dogs I encounter are either on leashes or feral, as in wild coyote. I think I did only one race this year, a trail race near my house. And sometimes I think I look like a newbie, but at least now I wear the right gear.
I had on the first race T-shirt I ever "won" -- from a Jingle Bell Run in Washington, D.C., on Dec. 6, 1992. Wearing it yesterday, I suddenly realized this was my 20th anniversary of entering a race. I'd been running off and on much longer than that, but that morning changed the direction of my running.
I'd run for years but with no concept of pace or mileage. I ran purely for fun in high school and college and later to lose the baby fat after two children in rapid succession. I ran through historic neighborhoods of Antebellum homes, along demonic-dog-infested country roads and even once encountered a bear.
It wasn't until we were again living in Elizabeth City, N.C., that my sister, then living in northern Virginia, invited me to join her for a road race. She told me I'd either cross it off my list or become hooked. I remember being terrorized by the distance, the bitter cold and the crowds. There were thousands of runners in tights, not sweat pants and a sweat shirt like me. I definitely looked like a newbie, even if I ended up returning near the front of the field of my race.
Road races put a framework around my workouts and 11 months after that race, with a few more 5ks and 10ks under our belts, my sister and I were circling the same area with 16,000 others in the Marine Corps Marathon. And then, of course, it became all about topping the last time with another marathon.
I am now reverting back to my former self, running for fun and to lose the menopause fat. The neighborhoods are now tract homes and the dogs I encounter are either on leashes or feral, as in wild coyote. I think I did only one race this year, a trail race near my house. And sometimes I think I look like a newbie, but at least now I wear the right gear.
