To Two Women At My First 5K

Traffic? How many people are running this thing? I’m directed to park near the back of the lot. The walk will be a good warm up, I think.

I’m alone. I’ve not yet picked up my bib number and didn’t know they would give me a huge bag of stuff that I have to take back to my car. Runners in loose shorts and technical t-shirts mill around. I’m trying to decide where the number goes: on my back? Front? Shorts? I have a timing chip I have to attach to my shoe and re-tying the laces is complicated. The race doesn’t start for another 30 minutes. Everyone knows someone.

My very first race ever. I was hooked.

As the area starts to fill up, I’m more and more boxed into a little space. A woman beside me is making tiny little hops up and down and she talks to her friend. They are talking shoes, Asics, specifically. They know the difference between model numbers. One says she’s a tester and is trying out the latest this morning. They notice I am wearing Asics, ask how I like them.

They ask if I’ve ever done this race and I admit this is my first one ever. If you ever went to a Grateful Dead concert and remember the first one you went to and people’s reaction when you told them it was your first time, then you know the look on their faces. It said, Oh, yes. You will love this. You’ve arrived. They talk about the course. We are running through the Cleveland Zoo. It’s hilly, they say, like that’s a good thing.

They talk breakfast and pace. One explains she’s spent the week determining her sweat ratio. They describe the races they have lined up for the summer, tell me the ones I should do, the ones to avoid, the ones to do next summer.  They talk about half marathons, but I am sure I will never run more than a 5K, so I stop listening.

We hear the emcee thank us for being there. There are some sponsors to thank and a reminder of what we are raising money for. The crowd pushes closer and the women turn to me and touch my arm. “Good luck! You’ll love it!” And then starting gun and they run away.

I looked for them afterwards, at the tables filled with doughnuts and bananas and Gatorade. All the sweaty, smiling faces. People already telling their stories about turns and hills and negative splits. Deadheads always looked so happy at the beginning of the concert, but at the end, it had faded. Here, runners were even happier, higher, than when they started. Some, in fact, just kept running, out of the zoo gates, past the parking lot and into the city of Cleveland.