I spent the whole summer spinning. The. Whole. Summer. For the majority of my work hiatus, I was also able to sprinkle in elliptical/treadmill run workouts on my "off" days. Add in Body Pump class from time to time and maybe one or two Pilates videos at home. None of this even remotely prepared me for today's Labor Day 5K.
Put on by Creve Coeur's Jewish Community Center, it was the hilliest course I have ever seen. Halfway through the race, I started planning this blog post. I knew my chance at a respectable time was long lost, and was thinking of anything that would keep my mind off of my burning lungs. During this blog thought storm, I planned to air all of my grievances about the race starting with whichever evil mastermind concocted the race blueprint. If I could get him/her in a room alone you can bet that I'd give them a strongly worded, fist-poundin', finger-pointin' talking to.
The course did give me a tour of parts of the Creve Coeur community that I'd never had the chance to see - mostly of its high-priced condominium/retirement villas. They were beautifully nestled in what seems to be an area that only a topographer would enjoy. I had visions of snow covered mornings and residents sliding down these monsters. And now as I reflect, I recall seeing a number of automobiles with four-wheel drive capabilities...
A strong hill can thwart any best laid plans to keep a positive attitude and it was all I could do to walk some of these. Feeling ashamed and looking for a scapegoat, I noticed that many of the runners around me would do the same - run down, walk up. The thing is, there weren't as many downs as there were ups. I don't even understand how that's possible (only an evil mastermind would know), but it happened. You would run or trudge or ooze your way to the top of a hill thinking, rightfully so, about how sweet the downward slope was going to be, only to find yourself directed to turn at the cross street which was again sloping upward! I'm not even sure what my elevation was at the end of the race. Fourteen steep hills above where I started. I do know that.
Griping and feelings of failure aside, I had a good time. Matt, Dad, Audrey and Claire also ran the race and were waiting for me by the time I made it to the end. Mom and Olivia were there as our cheerleader/media squad. Today marked Matt and Claire's debut at the race scene and I hope they had as much fun as I had at my first race. I was only fifteen - just two years older than Claire is now. The atmosphere was dewey silence. I was surrounded by animal-like athletes who were two, three, four times my age. Jack Farkenstein, the 70 year old seasoned racer was there - never lifting his feet more than two or three inches off the ground. I was shocked to see him again today. These days I'm not sure his feet do much more than scrape the pavement, but 11 years later he still shuffles in - sometimes before the last place runner - to a round of applause by those who know his history.
Matt has already talked about his running goals for the near and far future. I think the bug got him and I'm glad. I don't know if it was the long line of tables with bananas, bagels and vitamin water that got him, or if it was the complimentary soft tissue work done by the Logan Chiropractic Firm that did the trick. Either way he's hooked. I have lost my addiction to these races and it will be good to have just one more reason to hit the pavement once more. 
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