So I ran a 5K on Saturday. My first in over a year. That should count for something, right? It was very warm and humid. I wasn’t ready. I still have horrible breathing problems. After 1/2 mile I wanted to quit. Seriously.
I didn’t. I ran the whole thing except the 2 water stops, where I paused to drink and catch my breath.
It felt horrible. I knew I wouldn’t have a stellar time but I wasn’t prepared for the attitude I had toward my finish.
I was disappointed. It was my slowest 5K since 2007. I am bigger. Not in as good of shape. And I still can’t figure out my breathing issues. These are all things I’ve not had to deal with in the last 7 years.
I got a 2nd place medal for my age group. I should have been happy, instead I was in the “2nd place is the first loser camp.” In my current shape there is no way I could have caught the 1st place gal, it wasn’t even close. And yes, there was more than 2 people 😉
ODB said he was proud of me. I’m actually glad he wasn’t there. It wasn’t one of my proudest moments. Looking back, I am proud of how I did, even though it wasn’t my best. It was the best I could do that day in my current state.
It’s hard to accept when you’ve fallen from glory. Even harder to figure out how to get back there.