I got up a few minutes later, still angry, but pushed by my plan. It was snowing lightly when I walked outside. I got to the race at Twin Lakes early and stood around awkwardly. I felt underdressed. I thought the owners of yak-traks attached to their shoes looked wise. Then I found out that a 5k wouldn't count for the race series. I would be running a 10k.
My 2.5 mile race on Christmas Eve had been slow and tiring. I haven't run 6 miles in quite some time. I added a few minutes to my estimated time so I could be handicapped and I was given a time to start of 9:37. Nearly 30 minutes after "race time" in this staggered start event.
I spent much of my time in the car trying to stay warm in the snowy 10 degree morning. When I emerged for a warm-up, I realized that there was nothing warm about me. I added a layer of coat and gloves and unloaded a few more nerves in the facilities.
I was one of the last four to start the race. I left alone and shot off into the snow. I quickly caught up to the person who started in front of me, his red jacket a clear early goal. I realized I was probably moving too fast for this long of a race and tucked in behind him. We were soon passed by the two behind us. As we approached mile 2, I began to unravel.
I lost touch with red jacket and began the long process of holding on. I was alone at the turn-around, running in last place. Without a watch, I can only guess that I'd run about 20 minutes for the 5k. The pain of continuing kept mounting, but after the out on an out and back course, there was only back now.
I set my sights on the man in front of me. I didn't recognize him. In this race, there was no telling where he'd started. I made up some ground, but my steps were labored and my beard frozen.
I passed a few walkers and worked my way closer to the man in front of me. The world was cold and white and that man and the pain in my side felt like my only company. I worked closer, but not quickly. This felt like a tortoise and the hare situation. Slowly and steadily, I passed the man at about mile 5.
He congratulated me and urged me onward. I struggled ahead and focused on the next person. Three times I thought we were nearing the final curve and twice I was sorely disappointed. I passed one more woman with a quarter mile to go.
I stared at the white snow beneath me and begged me feet to carry me to the finish. They did. Reluctantly.
I finished cold and tired in a running time of about 47:42. It was my slowest timed 10k in ages, perhaps ever.
It was the highlight of my day.