You know you are a runner when...
...the first thought that pops into your mind, in regards to celebrating a holiday or an event is...there's a race for that.
Thanksgiving? No exception. As most areas seem to, our small hamlet sponsors a Turkey Trot 5K. All proceeds benefit the local food pantry, and all participants are encouraged to bring canned goods and other non-perishable food items to donate.
This is the 4th year that the race has been run, and marked the highest participation to date.
And this year, we helped contribute to those numbers by adding not only my name, but those of the hubster, The Boy Child and The Girl Child to the list of those that ran.
In the last several weeks, leading up to this race, the hubster has been working with me on my pace, pushing me to better my speed by more than a minute on average for shorter distances. Coming in to the race, we all felt pretty confident that I should have no problem blowing the doors off of my old 5K PR. So the goal became - in my words: "To break 25 minutes", in the hubsters: "To do sub 8 minute miles on average".
Thanksgiving morning dawned cold and shiny. And did I mention COLD?
We woke early, bundled up and headed over to the park that would serve as the start and finish of the race, at 7:15AM. It was about 30 degrees. After a brief wait in the registration line, we picked up our bibs and affixed them to our clothes. And then played the waiting game.
Luckily, living in a small town, as we do, the odds are pretty good that, if you are going to have a large gathering of locals? You will know a fair percentage of them. This event was no different, and we were able to kill time for the next hour, socializing with friends and neighbors.
Finally, the clock read 8:30, and it was time to take off. The Boy Child was at the very front of the line with a friend, ready and raring to go. The hubster and I lined up together a bit farther back, while The Girl Child hung back even further with some other friends of ours that were running at a slower pace.
One of the very first things that both hubster and I noticed was that our toes? Were FROZEN. An hour of standing around in frosty grass, waiting to run had rendered them little more than flesh toned icicles. It took the better part of the first mile and a half for them to stop aching.