My First 5k

I am not a runner.  Due to my lack of speed, endurance, and proper form, I have never considered myself a runner.   I have never really thought of myself as an athlete. As a kid, I was always chosen last for teams in P.E.. While most of the time this didn't bother me, once (just once!) couldn't I be second-to-last?

In September of 1993, on a glorious afternoon in Columbia, Missouri, I ran my first 5k. I didn't actually run the entire distance of the race (and I still don't).  Technically, I may not have "run" at all.  At one point, I started walking and every runner who passed by (which sort of felt like every remaining runner in the race) either told me I was doing a great job or encouraged me to keep going.  

Columbia is a college town and the race course wound through a neighborhood that butted up against the university campus. There were college kids sitting on their porches watching the runners.  I was still pretty self-conscious back then so I tried not to pay attention to the spectators.  But one bunch of guys had a boombox blaring the Rocky theme as all the runners passed. I couldn't help but laugh.  A testament that unsolicited support often comes when you need it most.

Finishing the race gave me a spectacular feeling of accomplishment.  Part of it was physical but the other part was finally realizing, at the age of 22, that I didn't have to wait to be picked for someone else's team.  I could motivate and inspire myself.  These days I love running 5ks, even if I don't run the entire course.  I always feel that I've checked off some grand goal each time I cross the finish line, that I have, in some way, given myself a wonderful gift.  Namaste :)