(Too bad I hadn't done any training since the Run for the Cure, two weeks ago. I'm less impressed with that. Never mind.)
Most impressive? My time: 26.21. Third in my age class, 16th woman, 87th overall out of about 1000 runners. Yeah, baby.
(Okay, so maybe I was third because all the serious runners were doing the 10k run. And now I'm obsessing about how well I would have done if I'd done my tempo and speed runs, but as I said, never mind.)
Unlike Run for the Cure, the Toronto ZooRun puts you into starting chutes based on your projected finishing time. When I registered in August, I had no idea how fast I would be able to run, so I chose the slowest running time. After my oh-so-impressive showing at the Run for the Cure, I figured I should move up a bit -- to the first chute. Happily, this proved to not be a problem. Despite stern emails warning us they would be checking to make sure everyone was in the correct starting chute, the volunteers seemed to be not so strict with the 5k runners; they were too busy saying "15 minutes until we release the cheetahs!" and other cheerfully supportive things.
It was a beautiful fall morning: sunny, clear, crisp. So crisp in fact, that I chose not to take off my lined tear-away pants and put them in my checked bag before the race. I didn't want to hang around for 30 minutes in just my shorts, and I had no one to give the tear-aways to right before the start. It was a choice I regretted almost as soon as I started running; there's a reason you're supposed to dress for 10 degrees warmer. Trooper that I am, I soldiered on.
Speaking of soldiering on: nobody told me there would be hills. Especially right at the beginning. I nearly did throw up then, because I had not done enough hill training. And by enough, I mean any. I did, literally, get over it - the first few minutes of a run are always the worst for me - and started to enjoy my surroundings. It's not every day you get to run past lions and tigers and bears. And bemused giraffes.
I chugged along, passing some people and being passed by others, but mostly trying to keep up with a woman who seemed to be running at about my speed. I lost her somewhere around the 2.5 km mark, but caught her up again in the last kilometre. By then my body was making its displeasure felt in the form of a suddenly full bladder and it is possible that I put on a bit of speed in my strong desire to finish the race and get to a bathroom.
When we rounded the corner leading to the final stretch, I sprinted past my rival (it turns out she was also in my age class and I beat her by two seconds) and heard my name being called as I neared the finish line. That, plus the cheering crowds, was pretty cool and almost makes me think I'd want to do this again. Almost.
I was hoping to meet up with a friend who had run the 10k, but our signals got crossed and we never saw each other, so I scarfed down the free fruit, granola bars, and juice and took a look at my beloved tigers before I left. A few hours later, I am home, showered, feet up, and drinking a nice cuppa with my own tiny tiger on my lap, feeling kind of smug. No doubt I'll feel sore tomorrow, but for now, I'm basking in the glow of accomplishment.
So it's done. I can check "Run a 5k" off my list. Right now, I think it might be my last, but you never know. The VPs at school keep trying to get me to register for other races, and longer ones. I think they're nuts. But while I still firmly believe that if you want to go further than 5k you should jump on a bike, I might run another 5k if you can guarantee that the day will be as gorgeous as today. And that my bladder will cooperate.
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