Recently,
Runner’s World posted a little contest on Facebook where the entrants would
post about the funniest time they finished last or almost last in a race. This was my entry:
It was
hilarious. First I was handed a t-shirt that was two sizes too small. I was
told that they don't usually get runners of my size. The race started and I
quickly fell behind. After a few minutes, I had to start dodging cars because
after the main pack of runners, the "closed course" was open to
motorists. At some point, the on-course volunteers were released. I guess they
figured I was so slow, I didn't need to rehydrate like the "real"
runners. Oh, also because the course markers were taken down, I got lost!!!
Nothing funnier than trying to find your way on the course. By the time I
finished they'd already taken down the Finish Line, so I didn't get an official
time. Also, they'd run out of medals!!!! What a hoot. They told me they'd mail
me one but never did. I guess they thought that might encourage me to sign up
the next year.
Almost all of this has happened to me, although not all in one race. I’ve never been in a race where they’ve taken down the finish although I have been the last person through.
Apparently,
sarcasm was not what they were looking for.
After
reading through a couple of entries, I narrowed in on what it seemed they were
looking for. They were all essentially
“The night before the 10k, I ate at a new Indian-Mexican fusion restaurant in
my town and I tried the chicken curry burrito.
The next day I redefined the meaning of the word ‘fartlek’” or “I had
last run my local 5k two years ago and in the year I sat out, they changed the
course. I ran the old course thinking I
was leading the way the entire time until I turned left at Main and re-joined
the new course. I ran a 5 Miler and
still beat 3 people who only ran a 5k!” They
didn’t want “Back of the Pack” runners; they wanted fast runners who, for
whatever reason (usually scatological), were in the back. In other words, they didn’t live there, they
were just visiting. And pooping in my
backyard.
I’m a Back
of the Pack Runner; I’ve been the last finisher in races. Finishing last isn’t fun and the people who
finish last are not something to make fun of.
In an
attempt to reach out to the disenfranchised, Runner’s World posted a blog a few
days later where a runner wrote about going for a training run at the same park
where runners were running a 24 Hour UltraMarathon (the runners ran for 24
hours straight and the runner covering the most miles tallied 155) and
wondering if she “deserved” to be there.
Blah blah blah, Sister Sledge music, Sugar Hill Gang, the runner accepts
water from the volunteer and accepts herself in the process. Awwww.
I’ve been
running with New York Road Runners since 2011 and from day 1, I knew I didn’t
fit in. First, I didn’t wear the right
clothes. I found a recent article titled
“Don’t Be That Guy at the Race” or something like that. Apparently, I violate two cardinal rules: 1)
I wear baggy shorts (the shame), 2) I tuck my t-shirt in (the horror). Everywhere around me, people were striking
yoga poses. I stretch by tying my
shoes. BTW, I wear the wrong shoes as
well. I opt for the running sneakers
with the extra cushioning instead of the sneakers that weigh 4 ounces
less. I’ve never worn sneakers where
each toe gets its own home and the idea of it skeeves me out. In that first race, I didn’t have a PB (peanut
butter?) or PR (public relations?) or know what either meant (I perked up when
I thought someone mentioned PBR though).
BTW, while
I was writing this blog, the Don’t Be This Guy article was reposted on Facebook
by Runner’s World. I get it Runner’s
World, there’s not enough room in your world for this runner!!
Then of
course, there was the other issue. My
weight. I was the only O in a land full
of I’s. In my last race, I followed a
group of four girls who were slightly ahead of me for most of the course. I was trying to figure out why they were able
to stay ahead of me when I realized that to equal my weight, one of the four
girls would have to travel around the course with two of her friends on her
back. I did end up finishing ahead of
them for the record.
Whether I
finished ahead of them or not doesn’t really matter to me. I race against myself every time. In my last race, I finished about 30 seconds
per mile faster than my last time. I had
an ambitious goal of 2 and a half minutes less but wasn’t able to get the
training in to achieve that goal. I’ve been
training hard since then and am planning on kicking ass at my next race.
Here’s a secret about Back of the Pack runners: We are trying hard. Some of us are trying harder than people who finish with times that are much faster than ours. I didn’t pick up running because it was easy. In high school and college, running was something I did before I hit someone. I would never use the word runner to describe myself. In the summer before my sophomore year of high school I was in probably the best cardio shape of my life (I ran a 6:07 mile), I made myself a mix tape to listen to called the Jogging/Walking/Crawling Mix. I didn’t even call my mixtape a Running Tape. It did have Cat Stevens on it which may have disqualified it.
There may
be a couple of thousand people who register for the races I participate in but
I’m only competing with myself. Did I
improve my time? Was I able to push
myself to run an extra lamppost or did I stop short of the mark I set for
myself? Did I finish strong? In one of my first entries on the blog, I
talked about how I got frustrated for being passed at the end of the Coogan’s
Run. It wasn’t the other runner at
all. It was me not having anything left
in the tank to hold off her charge, it was me not having the pride in myself to
not give in, it was me not working hard enough in the weeks coming into the
race. On those days, I don’t feel much
like a runner at all.
This year,
I haven’t had any races that I finished thinking “I’m a Runner.” I am coming up on the Portugal Run on June 15th
which is a race that I always mark off on my calendar every year. The first time I ran it, Farrington Racing
showed up crazy late and were being yelled at to start the race in the next 30
seconds or our times wouldn’t count. I
was wearing a heavy Under Armour long sleeve shirt and the weather was really
hot. In my haste to start, I tied my
shoes too tight and started losing feeling in my feet. Finally, due to drinking a dairy-based Atkins
shake before the race (MILK WAS A BAD CHOICE!), I was puking in the first
quarter mile. My race was actually so
bad, I didn’t run Portugal the following year.
I was hiding.
Last year,
I had been training seriously and wanted to run the race for two reasons. First, I dedicated the race to my Dad as it
was Father’s Day and my Dad has always been my best coach. Second, I had a score to settle with the race. I prepared well and ran a great race. I pushed myself every chance that I could and
set PB’s for per mile pace and 5 mile time.
My per mile time was 13:23.
Your time
is only important because it is a way to measure how hard you’ve been
preparing. If it’s a faster time than
your last race, you trained well. If
it’s slower, you need to work a little harder.
13:23 was a good time for me although I finished 5154 out of 5279. There wasn’t anything funny about it but I
was smiling after the race. I was a
runner.
So, some
people are wondering why I’m writing proudly about a time that many runners
would be embarrassed by. Is it that I’m
an idiot? Have I gotten soft? To answer those questions, I went back to the
beginning. Why did I start running again? To prove to myself that I could. To myself.
So look
for me when they are about to break down the finish line. I’ll be wearing baggy shorts and a tucked in
t-shirt that’s covered in sweat. I’ll be
breathing hard; my muscles will be burning because I will be giving it all that
I have left. If it doesn’t impress you, I
don’t care.