run, rest, eat, bitch, buy things, cross-train, blog, repeat.

Monday, August 5, 2013

Race Report: Smyrna Parks 5K

It has been well documented here that I hate 5Ks.

The Reasons I hate 5Ks:
1. I am lazy and oh so happy in my comfort zone.
2. I am slow.

The 5K is my least favorite distance to race. To me, the 5K is the most technical of racing. There's no time for thinking or getting into a groove. The gun goes off and you just gotta fly. I have a couple of theories of why I'm so bad at racing 5Ks.

The Reasons I suck at 5Ks:
1. The extra 15-20 pounds that I am constantly lugging around the race course.
2. I have no athletic ability whatsoever.

In my mind, you have to be FIT and naturally talented to be a good runner at the 5K distance. I am neither of those. Also, it probably helps to do targeted speedwork for that distance and I've never done that. MAYBE ONE DAY (not).

No matter, I do think it's valuable to race the damn things occasionally even if it's always a soul-crushing, ego debiliatating disaster everytime. Which is why I found myself at the start line of one on Saturday morning. Let's just add humidity of 1000% to the mix for fun, guys! CHRIST.

I got to the race a little later than I had liked (dude. Smyrna is FAR) and was scrambling to sign up, get my race number on and have time for a warm up. If there is one thing I've learned it's that I HAVE to have a good warmup for a 5K. There is no way my little midget length legs can get any kind of turnover when they are cold. So, I like to get at least a 2 mile warm up in.

Remember this selfie?

I started my warm up and immediately ran into The KoB, we ran for a little bit and then ran into our friend Jeff. So the three of us jogged around, gossiped, and engaged in the normal pre-race nervous chit-chat. By the time we stopped, I was already tired. I realized that I probably ran my warm-up a wee bit fast. I don't know what we were running, but it felt like 8:30/8:45 pace (which... uhhh.. is pretty fast to me these days). Crap. I left them to do a couple of strides on my own (hi coach! I did strides!) and then lined up for the start.

As always, the first mile felt decent. I had no idea what pace I was running, but when I came through the first mile marker at 7:20, I started thinking... Hmmm... maybe I got this. MAYBE I can actually PR. And then 2 minutes later the pain hit.

There were no photos posted of me.
So, I made this illustration. 
Drawn to scale, obvi.

Party's over! Instead of giving into that feeling of death, I tried to push harder, not wanting to give up on my pace. My second mile was 7:40. At that point, I knew a PR was not likely, but I wanted to get as close as possible.
Here's a pic of The KoB. OF COURSE his photo was posted.
AND he's all photogenic and shit. I can only assume that my
photos weren't posted because I looked like a dying, flailing idiot.

The third mile marker was wayyyyy off (uhhh yeah, I didn't run a 6:20 mile), but with my finish time, I must have come in around 7:30. My finish time was a 23:18. Not a PR, but not too shabby considering it was August AND I'm not really in shape right now.

In the end, I actually think a quicker warm-up was good for me. If I had been running on my own, I would have definitely been running a 9:30ish pace. I would have been afraid that running any faster would tire me out. But, I think running faster than that (but not TOO fast) was good to get my legs ready to race.*

Another age group award (woot!) and a good confidence boost going into some tough marathon training (I have given up at calendar math, but I assume it starts soon). 
Hold up! There IS a pic of me. Ugh.
Identity of innocent bystander blurred by me
to protect her from being associated with my
dumb ass blog.

*I realize this paragraph makes no fucking sense. What I'm trying to say is... the faster warm-up was a good idea.


Carina said...

An August 5k? Yeah, you've lost it.

Coach Bitch said...


"I am slow"?

"I have no athletic ability whatsoever"?

No and no. Not to mention, you'd better get your brain out of Downer Town before I start kicking your ass to Kingdom Come in preparation for running 26.2 miles AT AN 8:13 PACE in order to qualify for the fucking Boston Marathon!!!

Yours Truly,

Coach Bitch