This morning, I ran my first 5K race. I'm 12 weeks pregnant and sick as can be, yet I still ran. I'm not fast, as I've said before, but I ran every step of the race. I didn't walk at all, though it was tempting. The first half mile went uphill and a lot of the other runners stopped to walk it. I kept running. It was hard. The next stretch was downhill, and I passed a few spectators I knew.
There were lots of people along the route, waiting for BYU's Homecoming Parade. If I'd thought about it in advance, I would have thought, "eh, I'm not sure I'd want people to watch me run." But I didn't think much about it, and while I was running, I found it so fun to run by crowds and hear them cheer us on. There were a couple of people that picked up my number and cheered just for me -- "Go 30!" they'd say, and I'd grin, "Yeah! Me and this baby!" If I run it next year, I'm going to get me a big shirt that reads, "Mother of 8." A little shameless self-promotion isn't all bad, is it?
There was a gal who ran near me that stopped to walk several times. She kept passing me when she started running again, then I'd pass her when she stopped to walk. The first time I passed her, I told her she was doing great. Then when she passed me, I said, "See? You're doing awesome!" Her pace was pretty much the same as mine, but as you know, I don't claim to be fast. Just consistent. The fact that I'm still running, even though I spend much of the last six weeks either throwing up or feeling like it, is a major accomplishment.
Evidently, I was fast enough that I beat my family, who showed up at the Brick Oven to cheer me on, only to miss seeing me.
I finally finished. My run-walk friend caught up to me as we headed around the track for the last little bit. "Hey," I teased, "You're not allowed to pass me!" "I won't," she assured me, "you've helped me a lot." I did tell her I was joking and she was welcome to run ahead. As we rounded the last corner of the track, I pulled together all the energy I had, and I sprinted the last 100 meters. That felt good.
My time? 37:31.4 Like I said, I'm not fast. According to my race ticket, I came in 20th in my age bracket and my pace was 12:04 min/mi. Not so shabby for a pregnant 31-year-old who before this summer had never run a mile straight.
There were lots of people along the route, waiting for BYU's Homecoming Parade. If I'd thought about it in advance, I would have thought, "eh, I'm not sure I'd want people to watch me run." But I didn't think much about it, and while I was running, I found it so fun to run by crowds and hear them cheer us on. There were a couple of people that picked up my number and cheered just for me -- "Go 30!" they'd say, and I'd grin, "Yeah! Me and this baby!" If I run it next year, I'm going to get me a big shirt that reads, "Mother of 8." A little shameless self-promotion isn't all bad, is it?
There was a gal who ran near me that stopped to walk several times. She kept passing me when she started running again, then I'd pass her when she stopped to walk. The first time I passed her, I told her she was doing great. Then when she passed me, I said, "See? You're doing awesome!" Her pace was pretty much the same as mine, but as you know, I don't claim to be fast. Just consistent. The fact that I'm still running, even though I spend much of the last six weeks either throwing up or feeling like it, is a major accomplishment.
Evidently, I was fast enough that I beat my family, who showed up at the Brick Oven to cheer me on, only to miss seeing me.
I finally finished. My run-walk friend caught up to me as we headed around the track for the last little bit. "Hey," I teased, "You're not allowed to pass me!" "I won't," she assured me, "you've helped me a lot." I did tell her I was joking and she was welcome to run ahead. As we rounded the last corner of the track, I pulled together all the energy I had, and I sprinted the last 100 meters. That felt good.
My time? 37:31.4 Like I said, I'm not fast. According to my race ticket, I came in 20th in my age bracket and my pace was 12:04 min/mi. Not so shabby for a pregnant 31-year-old who before this summer had never run a mile straight.
Comments
First off, I can't believe you had time to get ready for a marathon. Second I can't believe you ran while pregnant. I'm too tired, sick, lazy to do that. Third I can't believe you are going to have another child and pass me up. I am happy for you. We had a family in our last ward with eight children and she was always saying "Eight is Great!"
Be glad that you don't have any teenagers yet. That is the main thing I have found. Teenagers and Babies don't mix. The teenagers stay out and up late. The babies wake up to eat. This makes for very exhausted parents.