The Expert, the Swim Bike Kids and I set out for Tribble Mill Park today… for my birthday weekend 5k. Okay, so we didn’t plan it for my birthday, but I thought a nice, solid 5k would be a nice way to get my butt in gear again.
I ran this route in a race last year, and it took me 36 minutes. The Expert and I were plotting how to get me under a 30 minute 5k, which would actually be a 2:19 record from my best 5k time ever.
So I had the plan, with the help of the Expert, to destroy my 5k PR:
Run Mile 1 at 11 minute pace.
Run Mile 2 at 10 minute pace.
And bust it the last mile at a 9 minute pace.
I was ready. Had my cheering squad with me. Had my skull scully. Had my new winter gear and my pigtail braids.
Today was the day that I was taking a sub-thirty 5k for my own!
And we were off. [I love the start video – not for the quality, but for the sounds. Those are my kids. Love it.]
But I felt great. [Oooops, I had already thrown out my race plan.]
About the half mile mark, I saw the kids and the Expert and I was still pacing about 9:00 mile.
My form was not heinous. At least not that bad. I was going!! Then came the giant hills. Even still, I made it up the massive climbs, still pacing well. This is great!!! I thought.
And then it happened.
I had finally caught up with my running nemesis, right about the 0.9 mile marker (he was about 85 years old, and had been beating me for almost the first mile)… I was talking him on the hill! Ahahaahahha! You’re going down!!
Twisssssssst! Snap! #*@&$@#*&*^#!
I rolled my left ankle. (The same one I sprained back in July)… (No, not the broken one. That was another time.) I rolled my ankle on what would appear to be nothing. Swim Bike Klutz reared her ugly, pigtailed head again. Chrissie Wellington as “Muppet” has got nothing on me.
So I hobbled and sat down on a bench for a minute. I looked down at my watch and pressed “stop.” I had gone 0.9 miles. My time was 8:41. And I had hobbled and sat on the bench before stopping.
I looked at my watch again. Holy guacamole. That was smoking fast for me. Smoking. If I could have kept that up for the remaining 2.2 – even kept it up, kind of? …Well, my only conclusion is that my sub-thirty 5k would have happened, and instead…it slipped right through my klutzy grasp.
So I’m fine (I think). It’s another minor sprain, from what I can tell. I’m icing. I’m elevating. The Expert so graciously took the kids away for the rest of the morning, so I can mope and ice without, “Mommy will you please put on your robot leg again?” and “Mommy, why didn’t you get a medal?”
I had a sour face on the drive home.
“You really blew the chance at a good blog,” the Expert said in the car. “A sub-30 5k would have been great to report.”
I scrunched my face at him. “Ah,” I said, “I’ll just write about my klutziness.”
He snickered, “I’m pretty sure everyone is tired of reading about your broken feet and ankles.” Hurmph.
Well, sorry guys. That’s all I have to report today. Swim Bike Klutz in thermal pants.
…But I do have some positive spin on this crapola morning.
Tomorrow is my 33rd birthday. I have always known that 2013 and my 33rd year were going to be the super luckiest year of my life. I have thought that since I loved the pitcher, Steve Avery, with the Atlanta Braves in early 1990s (he was #33) and later, as I wore the #33 on my sports jerseys wherever I could. 33 has been my number.
So with this twist of 5k fate, I am leaving all my klutziness, bad habits and shenanigans behind— in my age 32 year. So there. This sub-thirty 5k didn’t happen. But there will be so many more in the future.
I am making way for all the awesome things that my age 33 year has to bring. Mainly, a healthier way of life. Oh, and an Ironman.
…And I’m coming to get you 5k. You’re on my radar.
As many of you know, I received my book proof yesterday. To hold it in my hands… was so unreal.
Signed pre-orders have shipped. And it *just* became available on Amazon.