Runner's World

On a chilly overcast morning with the cherry blossoms about one week past peak bloom, I woke at 5:30 and caught a ride to Saga city, about an hour and a half from Nagasaki. After making a mess in two of three public restrooms along the way we got to the race site. I spent the next half hour in three different lines; the first to register, the second to sign my name on the card because apparently the first line couldn't lend me a pen, the third was back to the first to do what I tried to do twenty minutes before. I swear the Japanese national pass time is standing in line.I guess it teaches patience, or more likely resignation to a Kafkaesque nightmare existence.But I'm like that guy in the Apple commercial throwing that thing through the giant screen!  I am not a number!! Actually I just fidget and sigh a lot. They know what that really means though.

So I finally got my number (oh, the irony) and after finding a locker, changing, and sleepily trying to safety pin a piece of paper to my chest, there were about three minutes left to race time. Ten seconds of stretching. I joined the crowd covering about half a race track and spotted a guy holding a sign "40:00 - 45:00". That's me! So I pushed my way up to where he was standing. Without any warning (that I heard or understood) the gun went off and people slowly began to shuffle towards the start line. Either everyone had ignored the sign suggesting what time they expected to achieve or they were all lying to themselves. The first two kilometers were tiring as I fluctuated between calming myself down and trying to establish a steady pace and weaving in, out, and around the slow and very slow. I felt like I ran an extra 500 meters in circumventing steps and was feeling pretty flat and sluggish when I hit the half way point. I checked the time : over 23 minutes. Damn! I'm tired, my feet weigh a hundred pounds each, and I have to go to the toilet (number one and two). Can I step it up and salvage a half decent time?

The second five was a painful and thoroughly unenjoyable countdown to the finish line. With one kilometer left the shuffle on my ipod picked out the exact kick in the ass I needed: "That Was Just Your Life" by Metallica. I always seem to get into a back and forth battle with at least one other runner and this time was no different. He would pass me and as I slowly picked up the pace towards the finish I would pull ahead. He rushes past me again and, keeping a steadily increasing, pace I reeled him in. Finally we enter the stadium and hit the track towards the finish line and I floor it. Good bye anonymous foe!

I was glad to see that the second five took less than 21 minutes and I was pretty satisfied that I had emptied the gas tank but was a little disappointed that I was a minute off my best time from last fall. Have I peaked? I hope not. I hadn't been living the healthiest lifestyle in the preceding months, what with so much work and eating fast food because I'm too exhausted too cook. I put on almost five pounds and I could really feel it in the knees and feet.  One step back, two steps forward. Which is a really bad way to run.