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Recap: My very first 5K

Last week I ran my first 5K. Having never run a race before, and not paying too much attention to the name of the race (Guerilla Running Winter Cross), it was a cross country thing. Which means we ran in a field behind a driving range. 

It was cold, it was grassy and it was full of people that are part of this “Guerilla Running” running club. They were decked out in their racing gear and all looked like this was just a leisurely Saturday morning run for them. They run 3.1 miles all the time. 

I was 100% confident that I was going to come in last (and i did), but my goal was just to finish. To log my first race and actually get a time. I also wanted a number, which I got, so that’s good. 

When the race started, right out of the gate, I was running way too fast. I don’t know why, even for the first few steps, I even remotely tried to keep up with these women. About 10 yards in, I dropped back, but definitely still running faster than I’d trained. Up until this point, my training has mostly been done on a treadmill where I can run (read: slowly jog) consistently for 30+ minutes at a comfortable 18 min/mile pace. I don’t know where that pace was, I couldn’t find it at all.

According to my Nike+, my first .5 mi was at a 13 min pace, way too fast for me, which explains why I had to walk far more than I wanted to. My body just couldn’t sustain it. And the cold, moist air, I think, was to blame for the cough I developed about a mile in. 

I walked/jogged/walked the rest of the course (two big loops and one small loop), and I wound up finishing with an unofficial time of 48:09 min. Official results came out today and I’m on the record with my first race at 47:48 min. 

It was brutal and I will be more than OK if I never run cross country again. Give me a road or a treadmill anyday. But the support on Facebook and from all the volunteers was stellar. I feel underserving of all the “good jobs” and “keep it ups” because I came in last, yada yada. But the thing God’s been teaching me over the last couple weeks - and definitely reminded me about over and over again on Saturday - is that I musn’t compare myself to others. Running (read: jogging) is about me competing with myself. Pushing myself. Doing things that I haven’t ever actually considered doing. I have to start somewhere. And coming in last isn’t nearly as bad as not finishing at all. I am not a quitter.