This morning I ran in the Global Race for the Cure 5K. It is the first time that I’ve done this particular race by myself. I admit to feeling an odd sense of entitlement when I am running in it. I find myself entertaining thoughts along the lines of “get out of my way with your stupid stroller,” or “why the hell did you stop dead two steps in front of me – you signed up to run and we’re a quarter of a mile in,” or “I know that you didn’t just throw an elbow right into my survivor shirt just to gain a whole step in front of me, asshole.” It feels like my race. I had breast cancer, so all of you, really you’re running for me. I own that shit. At least that’s the weird twist my brain puts on it when I’m out there. It’s always crowded. It’s always blisteringly hot, even though it starts early. Honestly, were it any other race, there’s no way I’d do it every year.
But I got up early. I ran to the metro for a warm up, rode down to Chinatown and jogged over to 7th. I had considered doing the “Parade of Pink” because they move to the front of the race line, though I think that would make me feel like I was on display in a weird way, but I got there a little too late. I did hear the official announce the Survivor of The Year, which made me wonder how the competition plays out for that annually, considering the nature of the honor. It’s funny if you think of it in the right context. Honest. So, instead I walked over towards the start line and noticed that there were signs placed where the parade of survivors would go so I meandered over and squeezed myself in before the actual parade came.
It’s so big and such and event that the time you spend waiting at the start gets tedious.You are bored. Everyone around you is bored too, and when there is any indication that you’re going to get to move, the crowd converges in on you from all sides. It’s a little frightening. So the gun went off after I listened to half of the playlist I had prepared for the race and the crush made its way across the start line. The first hard turn is not long after the start line, and the crowd is still thick. So it’s kind of annoying because I felt as if I was getting pushed more towards the sidewalk the closer I got to the turn. The crowd stayed heavy until the first mile when the heat really starts to get to everyone, and some runners succumb to improper pacing at the start. I started out fast for me, somewhere around a 9 minute mile. I felt good but knew the heat, and that thick cotton survivor shirt that I actually wore right out of the race packet like an idiot, would eventually get to me.
Mile 2 was uneventful. The sun was brutal and as I approached mile 3 I discovered the benefit to starting out in the back of the pack – I was missing the freak sightings which make this kind of thing amusing. My pace had slowed a bit, but I was still running sub-10/mile, I was getting passed, but I was also doing my own share of passing, however there were no pink flamingo hats, only one tutu, and no big teams, feather boas, anything. All I could do was repeat my “make it easy, make it light” mantra in my head, turn up the Gnarls Barkley, and wonder how much of a disaster it would be if I tried to take off my shirt for the last half mile while running instead of finishing wearing the equivalent of a soaked cotton towel. Next year, damn the gun time – I’m running in the back of the pack, just because it’s more fun!
When the finish line became visible, I checked out my Garmin and sure enough, it looked like I was going to come in sub-30 minutes. If it happened, this would be the first time that I’ve ever done that and it was my goal for the race. Sure enough, my official time was net- 29:33. 29th/258 bc survivors, 786th woman to cross the finish and 147/856 in my division. For me this was not bad, not bad at all. Still, next year I’m going to run at the back, just to try and get the full experience.