I could easily start this with the classic Ghostbusters line
when they walked out of the courtroom after being tried for making a hole in
the middle of the street and capturing the Scolleri Brothers. I could do that,
but I wont; not because people may not know what I am talking about, but more
so one 5K does not equal me to being back. I consider it a step in the right
direction towards getting back to where I used to be and to then go the next
step in this journey of running.
What am I talking about? Well I ran my first 5K since the
destruction of my ankle, this run was called the Macoby run and it took place
near Green Lane, PA. This course is in fact mapped out on a golf course, a very
steep hill golf course. I digress and I shall start where all stories should
start; at the beginning.
This run has sort of become mine and my mother’s run to do
each year now as our bonding moment of sorts. So the week before the race I was
in the gym and I was pushing myself both cardio and weights to the point of
exhaustion with a day or rest in between each. I knew if I tried to do it every
day I would end up hurting myself more than I already was. I was determined to
make sure I was able to somehow in some way run this race with my mother, I
knew I was going to have to walk some of it, but I needed to run some of it as
well.
As we drove down the familiar road that would lead us to our
final destination of the race registration I was feeling pretty good, my ankle wasn’t
hurting that bad and my knee was doing good as well. The sky was clear and blue
however it was freezing out with the wind whipping at a pretty good speed so I
was glad that I wore some warmer running clothes, but I did realize I need to
invest in some light gloves to just keep the chill off of them. As I was saying
we parked the car and went up to race registration and got our numbers, mine
happened to be bid 14 which last year
was bid 13, not going to lie I was hoping for 13 again. We then headed
back to the car and started to prepare for the run. I got my running shoes
laced up, my ipod qued up, downed some water, ate a banana and then had to go
to the bathroom, lol. Those pre run nerves sometimes kick in pretty early and I
am just grateful they don’t kick in during the run because that would be an
issue worse than spitting during a run. So after my bathroom break I went
outside to start stretching and I was nervous because by this point the ankle
was beginning to hurt, no whether it was really hurting that much or I was
psyching myself out I am not sure. I took the stretching gently and did what I
could to loosen up and prepare myself. Now I like to do a small little jog
before the run to get the blood going, like so many other runners do, so why
should this time be any different? Well this time I planted my right foot, the
bad one, to push off and it hurt, but I kept going a few paces. It was around
the 3 foot mark I was in pain and it was then and there I knew I was not
running this one, I was going to have to walk it. Let depression station number
one set it now due to this set back, there will be more depression stations coming
as I will explain soon enough. 
As the runners started to line up my mother and her friend headed
towards the back of the pack and I went with them. I have always been pretty
proud of myself to start one maybe two back from the starting line, but this
time I was about 50 back from that point; depression station number two has
just arrived. As I stood in the back of the pack I waited for the ever popular
words to be said “runners…get set…go”, and as those words were spoken and the
pack began to move I did exactly what I said I was going to do; I began
walking. It was a good 20 feet till I crossed the starting line and for about
50 feet after that I was walking a bit faster and then something in my head
said “to hell with it, lets do this”, now whether it was the song on my ipod,
the desire to run or a combination of both I do not know, but what I do know is
I started moving at a 10 min pace light jog. I got into my zone and tried not
to think of my ankle and I also tried to make sure I wasn’t landing everything
on my left foot.
The breeze of the nice cool fall air felt good as I kept my
pace and kept planting one foot in front of the other. I started to pass some
people and Im’ going to lie it felt pretty good. As I trekked on and on the
golf cart paths that marked the race route I met up with my old friends
slippery leaves. I started freaking myself out a bit, but I stayed calm and ran
over them gingerly and then across the bridge to my next test. You see the golf
course is mainly uphill and these hills are brutal. I just engaged and pushed
on up the hill, now I was a bit irritated not because people were walking, but because
I had good momentum and people were walking side by side the width of the path
and not moving for those who were running. To me when running I apply the rules
of the road, stay to the right and pass on the left, so I had no point but to
try and find a way around which wasn’t easy and ultimately ha to stop and walk
behind them as others had to as well. I don’t think I was going to make the
second part of the hill, but it was the point of the matter, just common
courtesy that’s all.
As I continued on the path I was sweating, I was cursing and
I was thirsty, thankfully the water station was just around the corner. I attacked
the course with interval running of walks and running and it did me pretty well
and in return my ankle didn’t give me that much of a problem thankfully. So as
I kept my 10 min pace I did something that I highly recommend people not doing if
it is their first race back, especially if they are used to a certain pace and
time, I looked at my watch and good ole depression station number three arrived
and kicked me straight in the gut. I looked at my watch and it was reading 20
minutes and I still had at least another mile to go, that’s not what I wanted
to see. Yes, I know I wasn’t going to be at what I was, but I got to anxious
about my pace and how good I was feeling. I kicked it out of my head and just
kept moving forward and pushing onto the finish line.
After all the hills and all the depression stations I passed
mile marker three and knew the finish was right at the bottom of the hill; I
have never finished a run at a slow pace I have always pushed that last bit to
beat whatever seconds I could, it’s the competitive sports person in me. I
started to book it and I didn’t care about my ankle, I didn’t care about my
knee, I didn’t care about the pain…I cared about me claiming that finish line
once again. I crossed that line at 31:45, was it my best…hell no, was it my
worst…hell no, did I finish that race…hell yes. It felt good and all those depression
stations along the way, well they can kiss my ass because they were unnecessary
to have even popped up, I should have been more confident in myself and not
worried about. I know this now and in the future I will not let this happen
again.
When it was all said and done I felt good and I was proud of
myself, but I was more proud of my mom who kicked some butt of her own in her
finish, we also got out traditional selfie. So those with injuries, take your
time and don’t let those depression stations rear their ugly heads, because it
just isn’t worth it. You can push through anything, just put one foot in front
of the other.
Be safe and keep running,JB
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