very interesting article written by a Burlington Post columnist. She quite nicely speaks about the wonderful feelings associated with running. I agree with her 100%! I think my 5km race will feel very similar!
Running for my life
There are two types of runners. Some will run if they’re being chased, while others choose to run. I recently transitioned from group A to B.
It’s easy to tell the two groups from one another. After signing up for a 5-kilometre run, some people reacted with a ‘why would you do that?,’ while others got pretty excited — my dad being one of them. He’s a business-owner by day, runner by night.
After cheering him on during dozens of races, I decided it was about time to run through the finish line rather than cheer beside it.
A 5-km run is no marathon, but someone once told me the first five kilometres are the hardest. They have to be right.
On the treadmill, when I thought I was at the 20-minute mark, I’d be at six-minutes. When running outside I was battling wind and hills and noticed a considerable number of mothers running with baby carriages as they whizzed by me. Quite discouraging.
So why do people run?
It’s boring, painful and the urge to slow down and walk is sometimes unbearable.
Judging by those limping through the final stretch of Hamilton’s Around the Bay race, or those who didn’t have the energy to raise their heads as the crowd cheered, running doesn’t seem like a lot fun. While watching the 30-km race, I didn’t pick out too many smiling faces at the 29-km point.
Why run? The only way to answer the question would be to complete a race.
The energy that morning was undeniable as a sea of neon and spandex filled the streets.
As the buzzer signaled the start, the energy was like nothing I have ever felt. At that moment, I was sure I could run forever (or 5 km) — no problem.
At the 2-km marker the adrenaline was still flowing. At three kilometres, I was pretty tried but the Gatorade station ahead kept me going. At four kilometres, I learned the rest of the route was uphill. ‘What were you thinking’ ran through my head as I pushed through.
As I closed in on the five kilometre-mark a surge of energy swept over me and I sprinted through the finish. The finish line has to be why people run — the feeling of triumph as the crowd cheers you on. I was pumped and for a second I thought I could run it again, but my legs were far too shaky.
It was then I transitioned to group B — those who run in rain or shine, limp through the pain, deal with the blisters and cramps, sport an array of spandex for all seasons and dream about crossing that finish line.
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