Some ramblings about my 10k amblings

I started running about 3 months ago. I fought against the urge to run - which was never really a full-fledged 'urge' but more of an 'inkling' or perhaps a 'reluctant happenstance' - for most of my life. I resisted recreational running forever, saving my legs and lungs for more pressing needs like rushes to the bathroom or beating the regulars to the front of the line when they open the doors at the Golden Corral. Nevertheless, one night I found myself aimlessly Googling things and saw an advertisement for a 5k run. It was glitzy with internet bling, flashing lights, music, and a list of sponsors that included various running-type stores and Budweiser. Anything sponsored by the king of beers must be a decent endeavor, so I clicked away, becoming more and more interested with each submenu. I was one click from pressing the "send my money over the internet now" button, when I triple-checked the date and, to my athletically-premature dismay, realized that I had to work that day.

Persistence is almost one of my best qualities. There are times in my life when sometimes I just really, really want something, and I just MIGHT keep trying to get it. Well, this was going to maybe, possibly be one of those times. So before my kindergarten-sized attention span kicked in and overrode any current determination that may or may not have been waning inside me, I Google-ized other races in the area. Many popped up, but the first one was the Route 66 10k in Edwardsville. And it was on a day I was off! Not wanting to thwart my own initiative, I clicked the hell out of the 'Register Now' button, securing my place in the annals of running. I figured I could Google-map how to get to Edwardsville later.

Long story short, I ran that 10k earlier today. Here are the TOP 10 THINGS I LEARNED FROM RUNNING MY FIRST 10k:

#10: As amazing as this seems, "10k" does not stand for the amount of prize money you receive if you win the race. This was easily the biggest disappointment of the day. I mean, I didn't plan on actually winning or anything, but come on - this threw everything I thought about the sport of running through the looking glass. Why bother? A tee shirt or a medal? Actually that little 'k' represents the distance you have to run. And there's a helluva lot more k's in a 10k than a 5k.

#9: Go to the bathroom at home. Don't think that the kindly race organizers will think of everything you'll need on race day. Stop at Bread Co on the way to the race. There's one on every corner, and their bathrooms are pristine. I've experienced nature in many of its forms throughout my many years, and believe me, whatever was 'existing' in the Port-a-Pottie I entered before the race was definitely not natural.

#8: The sport of 10k racing involves lots of technical jargon that you MUST LEARN to ensure your survival throughout the event. For example, before the race, a surly 'race volunteer' (who was probably forced to be there by her probation officer) will ask for your ID and confirmation number (which you sure-as-hell better not have forgotten at home or dropped in the Porta-Pottie). She'll make lots of heiroglyphical markings on her race sheet, then raise her eyebrows at you (assessing the dubiousness of your even crossing the finish line) and hand you your RACING BIB. On this bib will be your RACING NUMBER (mine was written in scientific notation, I think) which you should affix to your RUNNING SHIRT (which should have been pre-purchased and should ideally be made from space-age, NASA-approved running type material that you can't buy anywhere for less than $49.99) using a combination of safety pins and/or duct tape. I learned upon finishing the race that your RACING NUMBER is used by the search and rescue folks to identify your body if you happen die in the local wilderness after veering off the haphazardly marked race path (probably due to some horrible fraternity prank executed by pledges from the local university who- rather than hand out water and Gatoraid - decided to turn the signs with the red arrows pointing in opposite directions.)

#7: Aid Stations are not restaurants. You should take your water and/or Gatoraid and move along. Think of it more as a 'drive through' experience than an actual sit-down dinner. I learned this at the Aid Station #1 when my pancakes never arrived.

#6: There will inevitably be some knucklehead performing what people in the running profession call 'intervals' throughout the race. This is apparently some high-tech training maneuver whereby you subject your body to short distances of all-out exertion through sprinting, then slow it down to a slow jog or crawl to 'recover'. I saw such a person, who blistered past me at record-setting pace yelling "Good Day!" to the rest of us huffers and puffers as he jaunted along carefree and easy. Just as I got done cussing him out beneath my 'controlled breathing,' he'd reappear from somewhere behind me, again yelling "Good Day!" at a pace so fast it swooshed away all the clean air I was trying to breathe. If you should see such a person in your next 10k, knock him down immediately, before he steals all your clean air. People, race time is race time. Save your training techniques for the couch, like I do.

#5: Gatoraid stains your shorts. Unless you spent more than $500 for a pair of gyroscopic shoes, it's PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE to drink Gatoraid while you're running a 10k. First, they only fill the little cups half-way. Second, running is a viciously brutal bodily activity, and thus it remains impossible to quench your thirst while running. Rocky drank his eggs BEFORE he went on his runs up all those Philadelphia stairs. And you didn't hear Mick, his trainer, gravelly shouting, "Drink your water, Rock!" while he was doing one-armed push ups. Drinking while running is a bad idea. On my first attempt at drinking, someone behind me took a faceful of the stuff as I missed my mouth; then I got in a small swig, but the rest rolled down my arms and onto my bib (which I promptly wiped off so the rescuers could find me if I got lost in the Edwardsville wilderness) and shorts. The sugary residue stuck to my hands, which attracted all sorts of bees and other assorted stinging insects. At the next Aid Station I went for water, which I promptly threw all over my hand, disgruntling yet another horde of my stinging nemeses.

#4: Along the race route, there will be gaggles of young kids, who should be mowing lawns, whitewashing fences, or completing their summer reading, who will instead be yelling at you, offering to squirt you with their hydraulically supercharged water guns. I don't care if you're running the Death Valley 10k, DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES LET THOSE LITTLE IMPS SQUIRT YOU. Lord only knows what kind of things they loaded those guns with and were subsequently dripping down my body after that mess.

#3: Eventually you'll pass the 5 mile marker. At this point (if you haven't veered off the race path and been devoured by wolves)you'll either be "digging deep" (as my old football coach used to yell. They didn't have 10k's back then, though, so what the hell did he know) or suffering from some form of acute, race-induced psychosis whereby you're flinging your clothes off piece by piece and handing them to the old ladies in the front yard trying to water their petunias despite all this race hub-bub. By this time, all the actual runners have finished, eaten their celebratory steak dinner, and are running back towards you in their 'cool down run'. They'll all be smiling (hiding their Budweiser cups behind their backs) and saying things like, "You're almost there" or "Just a couple more turns and you're home." THEY'RE LYING! Never believe them. There's always at least a dozen more turns and probably five or six more uphills and no downhills. Runners who have already finished are notorious liars. Google it.

#2: When you finish the race, always remember: Water first, then beer. There will probably be a beer table offering a complimentary beer to all 'finishers' (pity those who veered off the course and are currently being hunted down by hoodlums or forest gnomes). Avoid this table at all costs. Despite the incredible amounts of nutrients, phytonutrients, giga-nutrients, and the myriad other healthful benefits of a grog of ale, don't indulge. What's the purpose of drinking beer: to get drunk. And what do you do when you're getting drunk: sweat a lot, stumble around foolishly, throw up on things, and fling your clothes off at old ladies. YOU JUST RAN 6.2 MILES!!! YOU'RE ALREADY DOING THOSE THINGS!!!! You don't need the beer for that.

#1: It's never encouraging to see the race officials at the finish line calculating your finishing time with a sundial.

'Nuff said.