Bright Night 5k Race Report

 The last race I participated in (last weekend actually) I came in with a poor showing due largely to poor training but even more so to a  poor attitude. There was none of the usual per race jitters, pre race sweating, or pre race peeing, which I now realize meant my heart wasn't really into it. After writing last week's race report I vowed that not only would I get back to serious training, but that I would pour my heart into every race I did. Which brings me up to speed on this weeks race; the Bright Night 5k in Greenville, NC. 

Future me showed up during the warm up
and tried to warn me that all this running
stuff really wasn't worth it.

   This is the city's only "twilight race," so I was eager to participate. It also meant that a whole lot more and a whooooole lot higher caliber of runners would be showing up to this event as compared to the last one I ran. Never the less, I had registered months ago and was ready to give it my all. I showed up an hour and half before the race with one of my two teammates. (The other, unfortunately, ran over a hornets nest while mowing his lawn that I -- er, someone placed there. I wish him a recovery that is as fast as it takes him to be out of my age group.) As we ran lightly around the course to warm up, we checked out the competition, and I began to try to think up believable excuses to get out of participating in the race. I also got to get in some speed work having to sprint back and forth to the port-a-potty several times due to pre race nerves. 

   Just knowing that I was nervous about a race again started to make me feel better. As this good feeling settled over me while I was walking out of the bathroom I allowed myself a big smile. (I will admit that it was probably a bit disturbing to the woman waiting in line behind me to see the guy right before her walk out with a huge grin on his face.) Annnnnnd there's the blaring bullhorn announcing that the race will start in approximately ten minutes. 

   With most local races being started with the 'gun time,' my teammate and I decided that we should probably line up as close to the start line as we could. There were parties that disagreed. In-between conversations I stole glances at the other runners on the front line, the "elites" as it were, and knew I was being sized up and appropriately dismissed. Which was quickly followed by their facial expressions that indicated either severe constipation, or scorn that I dared to line up within their pantheon. (I'm still not sure which.)

The elites line up at the start line.

Once again the gun signaling the start of the race catches me off guard and I am forced to choose between being trampled or hurling myself forward off the start line. I ignore the ohhhhhhhhs of the crowd which convey that everyone has noticed my disjointed leap forward to keep up with my already sprinting teammate. We pump our arms and push our legs down the quarter mile straightaway and as we get ready to make our first turn into the neighborhood where most of the race will take place I call out to my friend that we are running MUCH faster than we had talked about trying to set the pace at. "I know!" he shouted as he began to pull further away, "Let's just Prefontaine it!!" * *editors note: To those who do not run, Steve Prefontaine, even though deceased, is a running god. Imagine the skill of Michael Jordan, with the drive of Bruce Lee, combined with the ego of Terell Owens, topped off with the porn star stach of Ron Jeremy, make him really, really fast and you have Steve Prefontaine. 

The Pre

  

  Ooooook, here we go...just try...to...keep up...with him. (I have no idea why my inner monologue was also breathing like a fat kid playing dodgeball.) This mentality served me well in mile one as I quickly shut down my fastest mile ever. Hitting the lap split button on my garmin I heard someone behind me say the words "Medoc tattoo!" "Yeah," I responded with a little to cocky "ever run it?" ...There are times in my life where I should recognize that the karmic gods are about to school me. I have yet to realize when these moments are about to happen. "Yeah, I'm the race director, and you probably don't want to pace off me." A few steps go by before I remember to breath again and then I start gushing like a teeny bopper who's just met Justin Bieber; telling him how much I love the race and that my whole running career really was kick started by their event, and if we can just be togethe--...right, story for another time.  Another half mile goes by and he wishes me well as he pulls away and I elicit a response which I'm sure sounds damn close to the bleating of a dying sheep. I'm definitely slowing down more than intended and breathing hard as another runner over takes me and encourages me to push through it by yelling over his shoulder "Comeon man, you're fading!" I manage to gurgle out the words "...nghhh....hard..." and try to pick up the pace a little. 

Me with the two amazing directors of the Medoc trail races

      We head into the last half mile stretch and my world is blurry and I find myself constantly reminding my body to keep my head up and not heel strike when I see a Bright Night 5k sign posted along the course that reads Almost there! Don't stop!  *sniff* "OK!"  *sniff* I snivel out loud and push harder until I hit a second sign. Almost there! This time for real!   --Dear God, what kind of a sadist would play with my emotions like this?!? And then, there it was, the finish line...and a dude creeping up on my left. I decided to kick my breathing into mad cow disease levels in order to keep him from passing me in the final seconds. I look to my left and there it is, by less than a half second before I can he hits the line and takes 2nd in our age group. I realize almost immediately that his race to the finish line has pushed me to pr by almost 15 seconds. I couldn't be more grateful as I wheezily head over to shake his hand. We both laugh and thank the other as I look around for a nice bush to vomit in.

  So I managed not only to pr in the race, but to snag 3rd in my age group and become number 15 out of almost 400 runners who would cross the finish line. Not to shabby if I do say so myself. (Of course I don't mind any of you saying it either.)  My teammate and I link up with a few other friends and enjoy a beer to celebrate their victories including his 10th overall and 2nd in his age group. 

   I've registered for a ton more races already this season, but mostly I'm looking forward to the times both before and after. The times riding up the races with friends, meeting new folks and talking about the course right afterwards with the old ones. I am, oddly enough, not looking forward to the heart stopping, lung crushing runs themselves. Maybe that comes later? 

oooohhhh.....shiny 

     With a great course, an awesome place to grab a meal and a beer afterwards, (Moes) and what turns out to be a pretty kick ass heavy weight medal, I am turning down Bright Night's desperate plea that I please, please don't put my personal endorsement on their race and am recommending it to anyone that can make it in the future. 

   Thanks again for reading, and as always, ANY advice for this newbie runner is always appreciated! Here's to all of you out there crushing the roads, trails, tracks and especially the ones cheering at the finish line! (We appreciate you more than you know.)