Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after my first 5k
Hamming it up for the 70’s themed run
When I started running last year, I no plans of ever wanting or feeling the need to run any race of any kind. It’s the fault of that part of me that doesn’t like to belong to a group—especially one that is fitness-related.
The convenience of the Ravenswood Run 5K was irresistible, and the momentum built from there and I went with it. Three runs seemed like a nice round number for the year. My time only slightly improved to the next one, and as my final 5k of the year loomed ahead of me, I did nothing to prepare for it. My time dipped considerably. Aside from not training, it was dark as hell! It was fun though, a Halloween themed run through historic Rosehill Cemetery.
Certain 5K’s is that they are also “fun runs” or “walks” which is fine. (I wasn’t certain how much walking I’d be doing myself.) But as a citizen and licensed driver in the United States of America, I’m here to tell you the obvious: slow traffic (walkers) to the right. Faster traffic (runners) on the left. I would also like to point out this has never been the case in the two races that have allowed walkers. My anger usually fuels my bursts of speed to get around slower moving people erroneously on the left, but this cemetery run was so poorly lit, I was afraid of falling. There were potholes everywhere (it is Chicago, after all) and the ground off the path was soft, uneven, and dangerous. It was like a gauntlet!
I didn’t really look around much at the cemetery, but it’s the final resting place of many Chicago movers and shakers such as Aaron Montgomery Ward, Richard Warren Sears, William Boyington (designer of the Chicago Water Tower), John G. Shedd (after whom the Aquarium is named), Leo Burnett (ad agency mogul), John Hertz (founder of the rental car business and Yellow Cab) and a host of past Chicago mayors and politicians. It’s an impressive place, for sure. I’ll have to check it out in the day light sometime.
For me, the last mile is the hardest and the longest. But as I neared the exalted finish line, two 8-year-olds zipped past me, yapping like puppies. One said to the other “I’m denying a lot of pain right now.”
Pain? Pain! You don’t know pain, kid! I’ll show you pain. Just turn around look at me. And you’ll see it. Easily.