Another 5K... Survived

…you know, as you get older and keep practicing, it gets easier every year to run your age. I walked mine today – I think I really did cross the line at the [mumble]-minute mark.

 

Just after starting, and by tradition, I called up childhood friend Spartacus. It's been two or three years since my last 5K, and almost always I call while setting out… and give him a hard time about strange, panting men on the phone. I did the same this morning, of course, and regaled him briefly in crummy Italian, before wishing him and famiglia and pooch well, and pholded up my phone.

 

For most of the course, I was right behind a grandmother, who was garbed up – like many other walkers and runners – for the Christmas season. There were elves, three snowmen, walking giftbags, a Mrs. Santa, a Grinch or two – and an actual Christmas tree that ran the full 10K. To the friendly, chatty reindeer tail and cap in front of me, at about the first-mile mark, I said, "Is your husband running the 10K?"

 

"He's hunting," she explained, waving off toward the mountains. It was nice Northeast US rural farmland, with Colonial-era limestone farmhouses… and even a 1920s-era rusting tractor roadside.

 

I grinned, and pointed out, "And here you are in the country, wearing a pair of antlers. Good thinking!"

 

That got me a snort. We later finished up by sprinting the last couple yards, having walked the rest. And I picked up a seasonal race shirt, so that'll be under some Whoville Who's Christmas tree.

 

I'm not as reluctant to take on the next 5K, whatever my Marine older-brother twists my arm for… and I'm embarrassingly a bit sore about the feet and hips, for having hoofed it for under an hour. But I was still vertical when I finished, which is always a good thing.