I continued my trend of running races at a pace slower than the week’s training runs, which is theoretically impossible. But then it’s also theoretically impossible for Oreos to be lemon, given that the point of an Oreo is two chocolate wafers and a creme filling, and we know how THAT turned out. I was aiming for a smidge over 10 minute miles, which worked for exactly a half mile. Everything then turned into darkness and chaos, which is EXACTLY what Don Kardong said would happen without ice cream. And there was no ice cream on the course. Plus, you had to dress as a loteria card for the run, and apparently Cranky Old Man in 1980s Era Singlet And Black Shorts is not on the official list of loteria cards. So I became Katherine Switzer, dodging course marshals and mermaids on a single-track trail to hell. Which was weird because it was at the University of the Incarnate Word. 5k, 38:33 (12:15). 11:20, 12:24, 13:15, 1:35. How the hell did I run a 13:15 in the last mile, which is barely within my easy pace numbers? Beats me. I’m just glad you’re around to pick up the slack for the 10:00 Running Society to avoid total embarrassment. Mostly now I want ice cream. Kardong, you know. Damn ice cream.
below: only photographic evidence of me at race.