I hopped in the accompanying 10K in Grand Rapids this past Saturday. Not enough endurance to make the 25K, not enough speed for the 5K, figured 6.2 might be doable. Finished my warm up and began making my way among the assembled masses (~3500 in the race), working from the rear towards the front. Worried that I might miss the gun (7:00 until Go Time), weaving through the 12:00 pace group, 11:00, 10:00, making mental notes as I moved. 9:00, 8:00, “Should I line up here? Oh no, look at these folks, not here.” Up through the 7:00 runners, not believing a single one could hold that pace.
Finally settled on front and center of the start line. I took a look around and for one brief instant the old adrenalin rush of “Maybe I can win this thing.” Then a high school stud next to me, and then a couple of more obviously talented runners. Enjoyed that fleeting spike of hormones though, reminded me of what it was like to be Competitive. When the gun went off, those people that I was so sure couldn’t keep up with me even on a bad day began streaming past. And this went on for the rest of the race. And as each person passed I gave them a mental tip of the sombrero. “Good for you, you’re passing a Real Runner!”
Old runners, young runners, skinny runners, heavy set runners, fluid runners, discombobulated runners, they continued their own pursuit to the finish line, barely noticing if at all the old man that had set out to lead them. My mind was strangely at peace and happy.
I had to take my first walk break at 4 miles. Conversed with myself that this is how ultra trail runners do it so maybe I should enter one of those. Walked again at 5 miles up a steep little hill. Got to the top and another fella named Justin was looking worse than me. I encouraged him to run it in with me and he began jogging again. We talked about his goal, it was his first ever 10K, which was to break 50 minutes. I told him we would do it Together and so I pulled and pulled and cajoled and pulled some more. With a quarter to go he took off, my voice echoing off the buildings for him to “Giddyup!” I couldn’t cover his youthful move (he a mere 32) but was more happy for him than I was concerned about my own goal.
Justin finished in 49:51 and I was able to qualify for the seeded pass at this October’s Omaha Corporate Cup by eeking out a 49:57. We shared a big congratulatory hug and I felt for the first time ever that a race was not just about my own performance. That even if I am slowing (although I got another shiny new “fat pr”) there is still something to be garnered from participation.
All those people passing me. And me passing through myself. Both a Right of Passage.
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