So I ran a 10K this past Saturday. I trained for it with a couple of ladies from the mom’s group.
Let me clarify. By “with” I mean I met up with them once a week or so, chatted for a few minutes and watched them take off. And then we’d chat some more after completing what would technically be considered a solo run. Unless you count Ruby. She generally stayed with me.
So by race day I was ready to keep up. I mean mentally ready. Physically I wasn’t quite there. I hung with one of the moms for the first couple miles. In part because I really wanted to. And in part because my watch went a little squirrelly and told me I was running slower than I actually was.
Around the second mile marker I decided slowing down was in my best interest. I watched my running mate take off and sort of secretly hoped she’d crash so I could catch her in the end. Sorry running mate.
I got pretty close, but I never did catch her. Which I think was really for the best. Watching her off in the distance kept me pushing until the end. So thank you running mate. I owe you my race.
I ended up finishing in 54:29. It wasn’t a PR, but I did end up snagging 3rd in my age group. No need to discuss how many people were actually in my age group.