One Race Wonder
Athletic greatness was never quite part of my genetic makeup. I have always been slightly smaller than most of my classmates and only found moderate success in the several sports that I attempted. My lack of Olympic level achievements did not keep me from trying to find a sport at which I might gain some level of proficiency. One summer I saw a flyer that indicated a 5K run was going to be part of the Fourth of July festivities in the town near the dairy farm that my dad owned. Currently, these types of races seem to accompany any event and have clever names like Fun Run or Fourth of July Firecracker. This one happened to be called the Human Race. With such a name I knew that this race had to be my debut into the world of small town 5K races. I grabbed the flyer, brought it home, and announced to my family that I was going to run that race and win. They looked at me with the expression that seemed to say, “I’ve heard this one before and I already know that you haven’t got a chance.” Chance or no chance, my family encouraged me to go for it and I thus started training.
When I entered into my first day of training, the race was less than three weeks away. I figured that would be plenty of time to get into shape. It’s not like this is a marathon. I was a bit naïve about the amount of training required to become an accomplished runner; however, my first training run enlightened me a bit. After I finished milking the cows, I decided that a good place to train is around the cow pasture. It was roughly one mile to travel around the pasture and the cows have worn plenty of paths that make good running trails. So being full of vim and vinegar, I began running with long strong strides around the pasture. The first couple of hundred yards felt great. I knew that there is nobody who could beat me come race day. The next couple of hundred yards I began to think that just maybe someone might be close to catching me. Then my legs started growing heavier and my breathing was turning into gasping and I began to wonder if I would even be able to finish one lap. After much groaning and gnashing of teeth, I eventually finished my lap and realized that I could go no more. My first training run was 1 mile. Not exactly the way I had planned, but I could take comfort in the many more training opportunities before the race.
The second day of training was much like the first. It was only a little more manageable just because I didn’t start out like a sprinter coming off the starting blocks. But still, my second training run was only 1 mile.
My third day of training was once again only 1 mile which means, in total, I have almost reached the length of the 5K race. Unfortunately, it took me three days to get there. I have a feeling that a few of the other racers can probably complete a 5K in less than three days. There are still a lot of training days left, right? I was trying to convince myself that I still had time, but it was becoming a hard sell.
After a few more days of training, I was finally able to make three laps around the pasture without collapsing in a heap. Roughly the same distance of a 5K, I decided to make that my typical evening training run. I discovered a few important tips while running in the cow pasture. First of all, never run through a gnat cloud with your mouth open. Secondly, the well worn cow paths are not always free from slippery hazards. I have a feeling that the race course might be a little less hazardous than the pasture, but since this is in a farming community you never know. Without fail, I completed my evening ritual every night after chores up until the day before the race. I figured that I might need to save some of that energy for the early morning race.
Ready or not, the day of the race arrived. Dad graciously allowed me to skip the morning milking chores in order to make it to the race before it started. So, for moral support, my sisters climbed into the car with me, and I drove to a small park in town to line up for the race. When we arrived, there were around fifty people or so milling around the starting line. It looked as if many of the racers were looking for change or something on the ground and the rest were attempting to push over trees. After further research I realized that this was some form of pre-race ritual called stretching. Rather than nervously walk around, I decided to see if I could find something of interest to stare at on the ground and maybe attempt to match brawn with a maple tree. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was no match for the tree and there are very few interesting things on the ground in that park. Thankfully, the start of the race was announced and I lined up with the other runners.
The sound of the starter’s gun went off, and the runners sprinted out as if they were trying to catch the bullet that left the gun. Remembering my first run, I decided that I should resist that temptation and try a more reasonable pace. With this in mind, I did my best to keep all of the front-runners in sight and adjusted my pace accordingly.
As luck would have it, this race happened to be a combination 5K/10K race, which means that some of the runners were running the 5K version and others were running the 10K version, but we all started at the same time. I say that this was fortunate because there was some confusion as to the turnaround point for the 5K runners. I was running at a pretty good clip and was a bit thirsty at the first water stop which also doubled as the 5K turnaround point. I noticed that most of the racers in front of me kept running past the water stop. When I got to the water stop I decided to stop for a quick drink and make friendly conversation with the young ladies handing out the water. As part of my conversation I asked if this is the 5K turnaround. They responded in the affirmative and shouted it out so that the other runners could hear. I then realized that several of the runners that were in front of me and past the turnaround spot, suddenly stopped and began running back. I recognized the opportunity that this afforded me and bid the young ladies adieu and began running the same route from which I just came. You will now understand the luck that I alluded to earlier because now there were only two people in front of me.
I was a bit refreshed from the short water break and the friendly conversation, so it wasn’t long before I reached the first runner that was in front of me. I was still feeling good at this point so I easily passed him. The current frontrunner was a good fifty yard in front of me but the half way point was still a short distance behind and a lot of race remained. After a few of the hills I was rather rapidly gaining on the race leader, who happened to be a friend. As I approached I could tell that he was really laboring. I was laboring too, but he didn’t look and sound good at all. I pulled up beside him and looked over as if to ask how he was doing. His look made it clear that this was not one of his best running days, and he waved me on to indicate that he was not going to go the distance with me. In fact he was the last runner I saw before the race finished.
As I rounded the corner to the finish with not another racer in sight, I saw a few of my family members standing around with slightly amazed looks on their faces. As I ran past them, they gave me the “wow, good job” look. But the only words that I heard from the crowd came from my step-dad. As I looked over at him standing next to my mom, his words clearly rose above those of the remaining crowd. “Cheater, cheater “, he shouted with that mischievous smirk that I have come to frequently see on his face. My mom gave him a quick slug to keep any more accusations from being expressed as I crossed the finish line in first place. In the midst of all the allegations of performance enhancing drugs and blood doping that surrounds many of the elite athletes of today, I am happy to say that nothing of the sort had anything to do with this victory. This race was won with good old fashioned hard work, a little bit of luck, and a significant lack of competition.
I wish I could say that winning this race became an annual occurrence for me, but the following year some of the previous year’s missing competition returned and I was relegated to second place. In fact, the only road race that I have ever won was the first race I have ever raced. I ran that race nearly 20 years ago and I still continue on my quest for another win. This quest has brought me to many road races, increased my t-shirt collection, and earned me a few age group medals, but another overall win has thus far eluded my grasp.