We ran the next 5K event in the Grand Prix a couple weekends ago. It was one of the area's "big" races with about 350 participants. It takes place in a really pretty, farm-y area near our house. The 5K course is an out-and-back. This sounded like no big deal when I looked at the course map, but UGH it's disheartening to just run a long straight stretch.
Nick ran with me again, yay! We started out FAST. 7:05. I saw that tick by and was instantly worried. I was ahead of my high school cross country coach, who is historically faster than me. I think that may have contributed to the pace dropoff in the second part of the race. Or I was just grumpy that we'd run 1.5 miles out and now needed to run back. Grump.
Next 2 splits were both 7:25, plus 6:35 for the nubbin. I really could not dig deep and find anything in the last mile, I was doneskies. Lackluster run time was 22.50, which was good for 1st place in age group for me. I think I was third woman? When I asked my high school cross country coach why there weren't many fast women around, he said he wasn't sure. Um, the proper response is "Laurel, you're plenty fast! Go you!" Way to stroke my ego.
Why does my darling husband always look so fresh and strong and I look like I'm dying?
Two weeks later, we ran the Pet Day 5K. Dogs! Dogs, everywhere! This race was a bit of a mess from the start. There was quite a line for packet pickup (there are only 100 participants, why so much line?) and when we got to the front, we weren't registered. I still haven't determined whether it was my mistake or theirs, but either way I ended up running back to the car, getting the checkbook, and running back to write them a check. The whole time I was grumbling "I need to pee and feed my baby with my body you selfish people where are your priorities" because I'm a super nice person when I feel pressed for time. Did I mention D had a huge butt explosion on the way there, too? And I was getting to see one of my best friends from high school for like 45 minutes at this race? I HAVE THINGS TO DO I AM IMPORTANT.
Anyway. Things got settled and we lined up at the start. By "we," I mean, me, Nick, and the baby attached to me. The feeding was the last thing to be accomplished and was done at the last minute. D might argue that it wasn't done at all since I unceremoniously popped him off so I could go run. Poor baby always gets the short end of the boob. The race started super well... we passed a walker in the first 10 meters. Walker, you're doing it very wrong.
First mile ticked off in 6:47. Say whaaaa? I was pretty sure that was bad news, but you can't unrun a mile, so we kept on trucking. Nick was with me again, he's the best. I didn't even check my times for the next 2 miles (7:14, 7:18, 6:56 for the nubbin) because I was very focused on not dying. It was a hard run for me, and somewhere around 2.4 miles I just gave up. I was well ahead of all the other women and my (oxygen deprived) calculations determined that I was NOT going to PR (pre-pregnancy PR is 22:24). I said screw it and stopped trying. But Nick wouldn't have it and he encouraged me really well. We finished strong(ish) and I was amazed/confused to see 22:00 on the clock. Say whaaaa? (again). But mile 2 brain said I was going to finish in 23 minutes! Next thought (really) "ugh, a new PR?! I have to try hard at every race now!"
I got first woman, Nick was 2nd in his age group, it rained, D freaked out (early wakeup + time without mom and dad = grouchy baby). I got to visit with my friend (HI MEGAN!) for a bit, collect a super cute medal, and head home.
22 minutes? I guess I need a new goal? Yikes.