I is so proud of self. Today I ran my first British 10K. Let me say this much, the British people are fast runners. Perhaps these runs are still more sport for runners and not how they are in the US - which is for runners, joggers, walkers, and variations thereof.
But despite all, I need to thank the British population, those of actual citizenship and not, for somehow inspiring me to pick up the pace. Because of you I actually beat my best 10K time.
I'm sure this has something to do with the fact that I'm also not risking heat exhaustion, as I was in my previous hometown. I'm also well aware that having my ass kicked by a person in a full gorilla suit, or frog suit, or cricket kit, or etc. is also an incentive to continue to put one foot in front of the other. I used to dread the person (I never knew the sex) who would show up, year after year, at the Halloween Fun Run in a complete pumpkin suit. All you ever saw were the legs. Every year they beat me. Every year. If the pumpkin suit only knew how many full size cavemen I had to overtake to clear my memory of the horrible loss I suffered every year at the hands of him/her, I'm sure they would poop pumpkin seeds.
So, the race. Oxford Town & Gown. Benefiting research for Muscular Dystrophy. A run around the glorious city of Oxford. It was pouring and cold at first, which was very properly English, but since I was racing along I felt more for the poor little race marshalls who had to stand out there and make sure we didn't go wobbling off course. I must admit that this is one of my faults, and probably several others, when I get going on a course I sort of become direction stupid. I would probably run to my impending destruction if someone waved me in that direction or placing a brightly colored arrow. Along the way they had these signs which I am sure read one thing but all I kept reading was 'bollocks.' That's how horribly out of sorts I let myself get. (Seriously, I'm sitting here now trying to think what they actually read and that's all I'm getting.) My only goal is to get to each mile or kilometer marker in one piece, and know what point is halfway so I can have my Gu. I hung at the front for the first 2K and then let myself slip to the back as I hate running in crowds. I hung with some pretty fit pensioners who kept each other going and insisting on faster paces. Near the end they slowed but I sped, joining two girls who kept having to rush past me the moment I passed them. When I rounded the finish I went to high five the announcer but then realized that I had a chance to complete the race at an hour 15 exactly, so I put in the kick and made it across in a time I had causally thrown out as being possible. All in all it was a good race.
The English are bigger on medals than t-shirts, so I own a nice bright orange and blue one now. Now that I know I can run as fast I as I did I figure that I'm probably getting closer and closer to considering running the whole entire time. When I think back to about 5 years ago and starting this whole running mess I never would've placed my thought process at running the whole time... but maybe I should try it.
But first, I think I'll nap on that suggestion.
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