I woke up last Sunday morning with a familiar feeling. My stomach was in knots and I was nervous for what I was about to endure. I went on my normal morning walk with Riley, and once again starting thinking to myself… Why did I voluntarily sign up for this??? 6.2 miles… WTF? Just like every other race morning, I tried to talk myself out of going.

First off, I am not a morning person. The more times I can hit the snooze button, the better. So now, not only am I getting up before I normally would during the week for work, but I am up early to go running for over an hour with more than 3,000 other knuckleheads who think this is fun. It’s cold, still dark out, and the best part is that I am paying money to RUN. If I really stop to analyze and break down how ridiculous this idea is on every level, I would just roll over after hitting the snooze button for the 3rd time and tell the dog he is just going to have to wait… Daddy’s going back to bed.

But in fact, there is a method to my madness. I was not in the race to win it. Just finishing would be a victory for me. Now don’t get me wrong, I am competitive (at everything). However I have learned to hide it well over the years, because nobody likes a sore loser… but even just losing at a video game fires me up. So since coming in first would not be an option for me, and likely never will be, I set a goal time to beat and remained focused on that. But finishing and winning are not as important as losing. Continuing to lose weight that is. And for me at this moment, that’s what this is really about. Having something to train for and keep me motivated when it’s cold and rainy is what I need, when otherwise you would find me sitting on the couch instead of getting out and getting after it.

Up until now, my past events had only been 5K runs, and now here I was stepping up to the next level without ever completing a 5K without some walking involved. My confidence was high(er) than it had ever been before for a race. Perhaps it’s because there was actual structured training leading up to the event. Anywho, the fact still remained that I had never run more than 5 miles at once (and that was just a few days prior), and here I was stepping into 6.2 (that last .2 IS important).

I could barely eat, and of course was running late. If this blog wasn’t called gregdidit, it certainly could be called gregi’mrunningalittlelate. I was worried about getting into the right position (nope, not directly behind all the Kenyans, but at the back of the bus) before the start of the race and luckily managed to find parking nearby with the road closures.

Get out of their way

Anne was along for support as well as Junior, who was along because it’s just wrong to leave an 11 month old at home by himself. I managed to find my running partner, and we settled into the last wave to start.

There is something about the very start of the race, before the pack heads out onto the course. To me it almost feels like I am getting ready to take a very important test.

And I’m off

I have all kinds of thoughts randomly running through my head. It’s out of control and I have a hard time focusing. People watching is somewhat of a sport to me… and there is quite a cast of characters at these events. There were also some familiar faces. But now I needed to settle down and settle in and think about the result I wanted. Publicly I had stated that I hoped to finish under an hour and seven or eight minutes. Privately I was planning on crossing the finish line at an hour and five minutes or less. Want to take a guess at which happened? See the previous paragraph where I talk about how competitive I am.

I’m sure at some point in your life you have heard the phrase, “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” I believe that in every other race I had participated in (and I do use the word race loosely), I had no plan. This morning was different. Granted, it did help that I knew the course well. So well in fact, that I have likely driven down this six (.2) mile section of Rockville Pike well over 1,000 times during my life. So I had actually spent time visualizing running down the road and where I would conserve energy versus where I could make up some time. I am not a fast runner, but I knew if I could control my pace at the beginning, I would have enough energy towards the end. So I employed my trusty computer watch… which is a Garmin GPS, but an older model that is quite large and resembles the old calculator watches from the 80’s.

Is bigger always better? The super computer next to a quarter.

I’m pretty sure I can hack into the CIA database with this beast, but yet I can’t figure out how to just read the time off the damn thing.

There is something invigorating to me about running down the very road that one drives on a regular basis. I first experienced it while running down Constitution Ave during the Susan G. Komen a few years ago. And now here I was, running down the middle of the road with my own two feet, covering the same ground that I would cruise up and down as a teenager looking for something to do on a Friday night.

I felt good once I found my rhythm on the road and tried to stay focused on the task at hand. At times it was difficult as there were a lot of noises on the road and people everywhere you looked, not to mention cars headed in the opposite direction everyone was running, with only cones protecting the innocent. But as I reached the halfway point of the race and checked my time on my Inspector Gadget watch I knew things were on track. I was well ahead of the fastest 5K time I had ever run… and my body was actually feeling better than it did at the start. Even better was the fact that as I looked to my right, I could see the IHOP restaurant where I would be enjoying my very own blueberry pancakes at the conclusion of the race.

Yum Yum

Is it wrong that I was being motivated by food? If it is wrong… I dont know if I want to be right!

As I continued on after mile 4 I looked down at the Commodore 64 on my wrist and saw I had a real shot at breaking the 1:05 mark. I would need to pick up my pace over the last 2 miles, but wasn’t ready to go all in yet. As I crested up the last big hill of the course, I started talking to myself as if I was getting urged on like a prize fighter. Come on Franklin… you can give 15 solid minutes… let’s get a little kick going and pick up the pace. Come on Franklin… you can do this… give everything you’ve got… Come on Franklin… there are pancakes waiting for you for Christ sake.

So as I hit the 5 mile mark and matched my longest run to date, I looked down at the Eniac strapped to me. It was time to reach deep down and grab my competitive spirit. I started moving past people that I had been running along side of for the better part of an hour. I kept digging and found my inner athlete… the guy who hates to lose and needs to win. As I hit the 6 mile mark, I could see the finish line, I could heard the crowd, and I could taste my pancakes.

Not only was my goal time in range, but I was picking up speed. Sure, it helped that the last .2 miles was downhill, but nobody was passing me. I was floating by others as I kicked into an all out sprint… or at least what felt like a sprint after over an hour of running. I could see the big digital clock in front of me ticking away… and as I crossed the finish line, breathing hard and sweating uncontrollably, I looked down at my trusty Super computer… 1:04:34. I did it.

The real prize