Frostbite 5K: Truth In Advertising

I drove up through the Islands this morning and over to Rouses Point, NY, for a 5K sponsored by the Northern Lights Track Club. About 75 people took to the starting line at noon for a fire department fundraiser. The forecast said mid-20s, but that didn't account for screaming wind that hit us whenever we ran east. I kept pulling my cap down over ears and repeating to myself, "Frostbit 5K. Frostbite 5K. Frostbite 5K." I got there early enough to run a few miles before, and finished off a few afterward; 7 miles altogether.

During the race itself, I was running just behind a girl named Jaden for half the race. She was maybe a teenager, early 20s - I only know her name because she had two friends taking her picture an cheering her on. I didn't talk to her, but you start to imagine a person's story when you're running near them for a stretch. I think this race was a big goal for her. I think she had to work hard to keep her pace, and that I unwittingly helped her to do. Her speed would fall off a bit, I run out to the side about to pass her, she'd glimpse me and speed up. This happened countless times, and I started to wonder if she had her own story running in her head about me: something along the lines of, "No f*ing way I'm letting her pass me!!" Meanwhile, I didn't feel a strong competitive streak -- I didn't really want to pass her, I just didn't want to keep tailing her so closely. But also didn't want her to be passed. It seemed important to her not to be beaten.

Near the end of the race, Jaden was grabbing her side and looking back to see where I was. The more she slowed, the more I felt like I was breathing down her neck, so I tried to speed past her and again she picks up her pace. Right on her heels, I tell her, 'You're doing great, and there's only 1/3 of mile left. Just keep going.' She turns her head long enough to realize I'm not trying to beat her, and says genuinely, 'Thanks. Really, thank you." She pored it on once the finish line was in sight and her friends were there to congratulate her. It was sweet. I hope she felt great about the day.

And the winner is....

Scene: GMAA annual dinner. Very much like the Golden Globe Awards, in that people are eating dinner and drinking copiously while awards are presented and recipients give humble, yet incredibly self-congratulatory speeches for the cameras. (Minus the cameras, the speeches, and the copious drinking.)

Esteemed presenter announces, "And the winner of the Best Blog of Year is... '26.2 Miles - Because 26 Miles Isn't Enough'!" Crowd collapses in hysterical approval, standing ovation commences. The blogger steps forward. On cue she shakes her head no, surely hers was not the best blog of the year?! (Surely hers was, in fact, the only blog in contention. Much easier to win first in a one-person contest. Note to self: enter one-person races more often.)

The peels of applause soften as the audience gazes on the winner, matching the tears in her eyes as she accepts the coveted GMAA pint glass and Dunkin Donuts gift certificate.

"This is such a shock, I didn't prepare any remarks," she begins pro forma, glancing at her type-written notes. "Surely the other candidates were more deserving. Who can pass a week without clicking on 'gaga-4-gu.com' or 'runday-bloody-runday.org' ? It's an honor to be their company," she recites, almost convincingly. "I'd like to thank all the people who made this possible: Jess Cover, for believing in me and for maniacally tormenting me, thus giving me something to write about. Chad Shepard for actually reading the blog, even the posts that I don't bother spell-checking. Spell-check, for making the blog somewhat intelligible. And in particular, I'd like to thank all fast, naturally gifted runners who give me fits of envy and feelings of futility, and thus more material." Audience shifts in their seats, boredom sets in already. Did someone say there was desert? "I dedicate this award to all the people who dared to believe that they, too, could......" the orchestra strikes up, quite loudly actually. Clearly time for a commercial break.

Ooh, the pressure of winning my first-ever running award. And oooh, the irony that it's not actually for running. Brings back memories of the jar of BBQ sauce I almost received once for finishing in last place. I promise only to drink diluted Gatorade or protein shakes from my new, very favorite piece of glassware. I hope the celebrity doesn't go to my head.

No, We Don't Need Your Advice On Shoe Color

I went to the Fleet Feet store last Sunday, ready to make my renewed commitment to running financial: I needed new shoes, badly.

My last trip to Fleet Feet in the summer prompted this post, in which I embraced the superficial and shunned ugly shoes. This time, I figured the passage of several months boded well: they've probably received a new shipment, or maybe even a new version of my longtime favorites.

Shoe guy: "What are you looking for?"
Me: "Saucony Triumph, usually size 8, maybe 7.5."
SG: "No problem, be right back."
Me: "Oh, and I gotta tell you now, I'm kind of particular about color."
SG: "Color is a very personal thing. I'll see what we've got."

Shoe Guy comes back saying, "You're either gonna love this, or hate it. Personally, I love this color." He opened the lid and peeled back the tissue paper to reveal the hideous disco purple-and-silver shoes that had made me throw up a little in my mouth just a few months earlier.

Before he could pull one of the shoes from the box, I put my hands up, 'Nope, no way. Not even sorry to say, No. I know those shoes. I tried on those shoes. I even ran in them in the parking lot and tried to convince myself they aren't ugly. But the thing is, they are. Really. Ugly. Can't do it."

I asked him how often they order from Saucony, and if maybe I could consult on the colors they order next time. He either winked... or winced. Probably the latter.

SG: "Like I said, color is a really personal choice."

Shoe Guy did, however, have a pair in size 7.5, in a totally normal, acceptable light-blue-and-white color scheme. I've been running in them for a week, and they feel just about right.

This Monday is the second meeting of Marathon 201 - a lovely, small group of seemingly not neurotic runners (is that possible?). We'll be having a shoe clinic at Ski Rack and I will definitely be scouting out some color options.