I Love Racing, I Love It Not, I Love Racing...

Here we go.  Another race.  This one is the Queens 10K at Corona Park, and will be my 6^th race of the season.  And I have to admit it.  I’m not overly excited.

It’s not that I don’t love racing.  Well, maybe it is.  I still enjoy running and competing, but it just doesn’t feel that exciting anymore.  I used to think about my race strategy days in advance.  I’d wake up on race morning with butterflies in my stomach, and at the end of every race all I wanted to do was go back to the start and run it again.  They were so much fun that I’d race any chance I got.

I don’t mind doing this, but I’m just sort of looking at it as a means to an end, one more race of the 9 I need to qualify for the 2015 NY Marathon.  But do I even want to do that one?  Or the one this November for that matter?  I don’t know.

Because this race is in Queens, and because the New York transportation system can be somewhat lacking on the weekends, I am driving to this race and giving rides to two other women, Rita and Alexandra.  This ends up being a huge pick me up.  Rita is always excited about her races and her positive energy is infectious.  Alexandra has turned her running hat into a tiara and her running skirt into a tutu complete with glitter.  Who can stay grumpy around that?

Rita and I, Queens 10K

When we get to the race we hang out for a bit and then split up into our different corrals.  In mine everyone is serious and quiet, and I wish I was still hanging out with my carpooling buddies.  Finally the race starts and we’re on our way.

The beginning of the race is very congested and really very frustrating.  So, now I’m running a race I’m not into and I’m annoyed doing it.  I don’t really want to run, but if I stop I’ll get trampled so I keep up with the wave of humans in bright colored sneakers all running 6.2 miles this morning by choice.

We turn the first corner, and I do a double take: is that my family?  Yes!  I had forgotten that Alexandra’s husband was going to drive his family and mine to the race and I’d have some cheerleaders.  They’re holding signs, cheering and waving at me.  My 6 year old son Ben is holding a sign that says, “Run Fast, Run Good!” and my 9 year old daughter Olivia has one that says, “Never Ever Give Up”.  Now, who can keep up a lackluster attitude after seeing those?  I take their homemade adrenaline shot, make a quick mental note that I have to work with Ben on his grammar over the summer, and trot off with a bit more kick in my step.

At about mile 2 I get into a groove and start to enjoy my run a bit more.  At one point a woman passes me, and when she does she yells out “on your left!”  For those of you who don’t bike ride, “On your left” is a cycling term.  It’s supposed to mean “I’m about to pass you on your left side, so if you could be a dear and sidle over to the right a bit, neither of us will get hit by a car and we’ll both have a good day.”  The way I almost always interpret it, though, is “Umm, slowpoke?  Get the [bad word] off the road so that some real athletes can get through.”  On a bike I’m happy to move over and let the other cyclist past, mostly because either interpretation is accurate.  But in a running race?  No way.

The woman does pass me, mostly because I was startled by her “On your left” and just instinctively moved over for her.  Then she does it to someone else and passes them, too.  By then, the only thought in my head is, “I don’t think so.”  I kick it up a notch, fly past first the other person who was passed, and then the “On your left” lady herself.  I don’t yell out anything.  This is a running race.  If you want to pass someone you need to work your way around them, not ask them to get out of the way for you.  And that’s just what I do. Harrumph.

  

The kids’ signs and passing Miss On Your Left is enough to keep me fired up for the next few miles.  I’d pick a person in front of me, pass them, and then find a new target.  I’ll admit that at about mile 5 this starts to backfire.  I was tired and getting cranky again.  I didn’t want to do this.  I’ve still been training a lot, so my legs feel fine.  It was my head that was done.  I just wasn’t into this again.  But at this point I only had about a mile to go so I decide to stick it out.

Alexandra and I, Queens 10K

I’m glad I did.  At about mile 5-1/2 the course turns a corner and runs around the Unisphere sculpture that’s in the park.  I take the turn and get another treat.  My family is there again!  They’ve ditched the signs, but they’re cheering and having fun.  I see my daughter before she sees me.  I yell out, “Liv!”  She turns and sees me, and then breaks into a huge smile.  She yells out, “Mom!”, and then my husband Wil turns to see me, too.  I give all of them high 5s as I pass, and suddenly I’m practically skipping along the course. 

As we pass the 6 mile marker, I get a little sad that the race is almost over. After a minute or so, we turn a last corner and I see the finish line up ahead.  I break into a sprint with energy and muscles that I didn’t know existed. I want to finish strong, and I do.  I finish with a time of 1:02:11, my 4^th best 10K time (out of the 16 of them that I’ve run if you don’t include the two I ran as part of Olympic distance triathlons.  That would make it my 4^th best 10K time out of 18.  Yeah, let’s go with that.  It’s cooler).

A little later I think about next week. I have a pretty heavy training schedule, and next Saturday I’m running a 5 mile race in Central Park.  As I think about it, I get a little excited.  I love racing.