Oldie But Goodie-The Story of my First 5K

Before I start my marathon aspect of this blog, I decide to repost something from my dusty old MySpace page, from Oct 2006. Its very touching to me at this point in my "running career", as I've come so far-and hope to go (literally) even further.

Saturday, October 14, 2006
I'm Tired Because I Ran a 5K, What's Your Excuse? Current mood: accomplished Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
I work at UNH and every time I open my Internet Explorer on my office computer, the webpage was taunting me-"UNH Homecoming 5K".
Hmmm. Inspired by my sister-in-law Erin, who is currently doing the "Couch to 5K" running program, I was mildly interested in this taunt from UNH. Could I do it? I've been running/walking for awhile now, nothing long distance, and the continuing increased weight of the 2 girls I push in the carriage makes it rather hard to push my running threshold.
I decided I'd do a trial run on Thursday. I mapped out 3.1 miles using the internet, then decided to also check my pedometer. I did 3.5 miles in 47 minutes. Not great, not terrible. I call Erika.
"I did the run in 47 minutes. It's better than the person who came in last at the UNH 5K in 2005."
"Yeah?"
"Yup, they were 62 years old though."
I asked Cassandra what she thought of mommy doing a race.
"Mommy, I don't think its a good idea."
"Why?"
"You're not a very good runner."
Ah, my confidence was being boosted by the minute.
I told Josh I was thinking about running. "Well, who will make breakfast for Marina then?" (His sister stayed over after watching the kids on Friday night)
"Umm, how about you? And that's not the point of this conversation."
Needless to say, I went into this with not too many people thinking it was the greatest of ideas.
I drove the loop on Friday, cringing at the hills, but excited at the prospect. I signed up-worse case, a $12 donation to UNH. Not that they don't already have enough of the Hetrick/Corman moolah.
I woke up at 6 on Saturday morning, nervous as all heck. Mind you, we were out until 11 or so at a 5 course, cigar dinner. The perfect pre-run meal. Marina was nice enough to offer to watch both girls, but I decided to take Kaylee with me, as I don't know what to do with my hands if I'm not pushing a carriage, and at least she doesn't yell "Run faster" like her sister does.
My goal: Not to come in last. That was all I wanted. That was all that mattered. Low expectation, just not to be 300 out of 300.
I start at the end of the pack, as I don't want to be in anyone's way with the carriage. But within the first 5 minutes, I quickly realize I am last. Crap.
I keep running. I run the first mile, slowly passing people. I keep running. I have now passed a fair amount of people, but I can still see them close behind.
Every water station or cop stopping traffic, I yell, "Come on, cheer for me." They do-and it just makes me run even faster.
At one point, I start to cry. I became overwhelmed at what I was doing. Here I am-a person who has spent over 1/3 of their life out of shape, a person who weighed 82 pounds in the first grade, a person who was on the JV volleyball team just so they had someone to warm the bench for the other players-running a race. I quickly realize that crying is taking up too much of my needed oxygen, so I stop.
I see the final road. The cop cheers me on (with prompting, of course). As you come around the final lap, they annouce you.
"188, Lisa XXX from Dover." I sprint to the finish line. 37 minutes. Not bad for an old lady pushing a carriage.
And I wasn't last.