Garden 5K

It was absolutely perfect running weather… for a walk.

To say I was bitter about my first walked 5K since my medically recommended prenatal running hiatus would be an understatement.

(Don’t I look thrilled?)

I registered for the 5K attached to the Garden of the Gods 10 Mile Run prior to the placenta blood pressure discovery. It is not a race I would have ever committed to knowing I would be walking. It is one of the ones where the truly hardcore (and most Colorado runners are already hardcore) come to showcase.

Last year, after moving back to Colorado in May, this 5K was my first race at altitude (and Trisha’s first race ever). It kicked my ass and truly showed me how much hills owned my ass. I had been looking forward at doing better at it. Maybe that never would have happened this pregnant, but I definitely didn’t want to pay for a stroll through the Garden.

Trisha left me to run her race, and as the sea of runners swelled around me and left me in their happy dust, I felt a bit crushed and despondent. I knew, of course, that this is what I needed to do and that I was doing what was best for my baby, but that did not alter my own personal desires and frustration.

Deep frustration.

However, less than a tenth of a mile into my walk, a woman appeared to befriend me and distract me from my selfish crankyness. She introduced herself, asked if I was walking the duration too. We clicked immediately and spent the entire three miles just chatting away. As the runners disappeared ahead of us, I forgot how much I wanted to be one of them; I didn’t think about how much I missed the act of running in my cells. I just focused on the conversation.

She definitely saved the race for me. Though it wasn’t at all what I wanted, I still enjoyed myself and got a good walk in.

After the race was over (and as my hunger rose), I did mourn and pout a bit again, but at least it was over and done with. I got the shirt I paid for (only race I’ve ever done that holds them until after).

I am registered for one more race–the Bubble Run in Denver in July. Technically, I registered for this race last summer, but it was canceled by flooding. However, I knew I would be super pregnant (34 weeks by then) for this race so I anticipated walking. It’s also a gimmick run so pace and performance aren’t the main goals. After that, I am completely on the sidelines, only volunteering at the Wounded Warrior 8K, until after the baby comes.

Then I imagine I will brutally turn on myself in October when the baby is outside of my body and I can return to trying to run myself to death.