First race after the ultra and I chose Boxer 500, a 5K around Walnut Creek Lake in Papillion, NE. The funds go to fight against colon cancer, the cancer than runs in the Aleong Family (my father's side). It was very important for me to at support the cause, since my Godfather and dear Uncle Richard underwent his second major surgery to remove tumors and cancers. He was still recovering in the hospital when I was running. I wore the same
Lucky Boxers as last year and pinned a "shout out" for Uncle Richard on my ass.
The morning race expectations were unclear. I agreed to watch a friends baby girl, so her parents could race their hardest. At the most, I would run comfortably with Olivia in her running stroller and take it easy for the path around the little lake was narrow and curvy. About 15 minutes before the start, a decision is made to leave Olivia with another friend who is not running, and all of a sudden it's on like Donkey Kong.
Our small group of TNB mates and affiliates line up at the front of the pack. Usually the best plan is to run even splits, but today we have a new plan (I would not recommend this race strategy to anyone unless they think they can win): We're going to go out as fast as we possibly can to take the lead, then let everyone else have to pass us to get in front.
The first half-mile, the mission is accomplished, but I soon realize that it's a pretty stupid plan. I am running naked (aka sans Garmin), so I have no clue how fast I'm going, but
as fast as you can compared to anything slower, makes you feel like you're moving in slow motion. People start passing me and I try and settle into a pace that is on the brink of total body blow up.
I think twice during this race, "I may actually throw up during this one".
We pass a water station with 3-4 jugs and lots of cups, but nothing is poured and no volunteers are there to distribute them. I consider stopping to help, that's how badly I don't want to run anymore. It's about 1.5 miles into a 5K. Not a good sign. I keep pushing through because ultimately I have to get back to the other side of the lake where I started.
At the finish, my brain is fried. I have no idea how many people passed me (seemed like a lot) and with the aid of chip timing, I pretty much dismiss the fact that I could win an award in any category. I hop on to a massage table managed by Better Life Chiropractic and Wellness Doc, Jeff Cumro and we go through my very long list of ailments. During his adjustments and ART, I hear my name. I pounce up and run around like a chicken with my head cut off to accept a medal for first in the F35-39 age group.
This 5K killed me and I realize: I hate 5Ks.
Way too fast.
Way too many brain cells lost after this one.
What's next?
Not a 5K.
No thank you.
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