Oops I did it again: OTR 5k

Perhaps you've noticed that my blog postings are a bit sporadic lately. This is because I'm not really running these days. However, I am drinking plenty of beer. So when my friends told me they were doing a run that had free beer at the finish, I was immediately interested - more so in the beer than in the run but whatever. It was for a good cause - the OTR neighborhood - and it was only 3.1 miles.

My left leg/foot/etc. has been bugging me since the last 5k, so I REALLY planned on taking this race easy. Seriously. I was going to run a nice 10-minute mile with my friends and enjoy my beer at the finish. The race was scheduled to start at 10 am (stupid in June) and it was 85 degrees with a good dose of humidity. Perfect weather for taking it slow.

As with most small races, things were a bit disorganized - they were still registering people at 9:55, the start line was marked with a big red balloon and a bullhorn, etc. The field looked to be about 600 or so. I kept eyeing the elites, who were right next to us (and mostly shirtless), and thinking "this is a flat course. i bet the finish times are going to be kick @ss." The airhorn (no gun) went off and common sense went out the window. I helplessly took off like a bat out of hell, driven by some primal need to run really, really fast (or maybe I have an overwhelming ego problem. don't judge). My friends shook their heads and yelled good luck. One of them later told me that she could see my internal battle over pace just by looking at my eyes. Guess I wear my heart on my sleeve, news just in. :-)

The first mile wasn't bad, even though the heat was coming off the pavement in waves. We were running through OTR, which is normally sort of rough, so it was cool to get to see the houses up close. Just as I was beginning to wonder if they hadn't marked the miles off, we hit the first split. My pace? 7:45. GREAT idea for someone who hasn't run in over a week, doesn't train anymore, and is bordering on an injury.

Mile 2 was...balls. It was so HOT, there was no shade, and we had to run up a small hill. After praying unsuccessfully for death, I stopped and walked for 30 seconds. I couldn't help it. My lungs were thanking me but my legs were cursing me...so hard to get going again after a stop. I have only walked in one other race, a 5k in August 2006 through Eden Park, for this very reason.

I felt a little better after the walk, especially when I heard that my time was 16:17 at the 2-mile mark. Not bad for a walk, plus I made a friend - a dude whose wife had smoked him in the first quarter mile and he decided to tail me since my pace was more manageable. Ha.

Mile 3 was mostly about trying not to vomit. I started walking again but my new friend yelled at me, so we picked up the pace and after what seemed like an eternity, crossed the finish line. One of the race coordinators hollered out "#9!" when I went through the chute. I was thinking there must be a lot of 30-year old women running the race and that I was #9 in my age group.

No.

I was the 9th woman to finish. Yes, there were a lot of walkers in that race and yes, the field was only about 600 people, but still...the ol' giant ego was pretty pleased with finishing in the top 10 women. My time was 24:30, which is only 1 second off of my Redlegs Run PR. God bless the flat ground that is downtown Cincinnati.

Sadly, with the heat being what it was and my lingering urge to yak, I didn't even want beer afterwards. Lucky for me a pal that lives in OTR cooked us breakfast with eggs, goetta, and mimosas, so I ended up getting a free drink anyway. Salud, my friends.