So, my first official distance run was a 5k (3.1 miles) that occurred on Thanksgiving Day. It was called the Gobble Wobble Run, but most folks have since called it the Turkey Trot. It started at 0600 on the other side of camp, which means I had to get up at 0500 for personal hygiene and get on the bus at 0530 so I could get in a decent position before the start. It was supposed to be a day off. I should have been able to sleep in until any time that I wanted. But nooooo. I had to participate in this race.
So, there I am at the starting line, 20 minutes early. At first, there weren’t too many folks out there. But, about 10 minutes to start, it was shaping up to be a regular human traffic jam. The “appeal” of the run was to be a T-shirt for the first 600 finishers. Of course by now, you should know my goal was to get the shirt, not necessarily to place. All I had to do was come in at least 600th and I would be happy.
My first observation about the race wasn’t about the race, actually. It was the music. During any kind of “official” Army athletic event, someone is always designated to play some really good music to get everyone feeling good. Usually, soldiers pick the music. This time, there was a bit of difference. The local workers (Third Country Nationals, or TCNs) picked the music and it was especially bad. I think they were playing “The Age of Aquarius” or something equally awful. I mean, I hadn’t heard of any of the songs but one, and it wasn’t even a good one. So, it was definitely an interesting start to the event.
Before the race, folks started to get up to the starting line and I was already there, so I didn’t have much to move. By luck, I looked behind me and someone I went to AIT with and I went over and said hello. We had a brief conversation before I wrestled my way back up to where I had been before.
And then the race started. And I didn’t move for nearly five seconds. I had seen this occur on TV and in movies, but I never experienced it for myself. Once I started moving, I really thought everything would clear up. I was wrong on that. For the first quarter mile, I would say, I was ducking and weaving, dipping and dodging to get around folks. It’s hard to pass when everyone is so close together. We were only on a two-lane road and that many people took a while to thin out. I would say that probably up to the first third to half a mile went really slow. So slow in fact that when I got to the first mile marker, my time was over nine minutes, which is really bad, even for me. Still, everyone else had the same problems I had, so I wasn’t feeling too bad about the whole thing. I thought, though, that once the first mile was out of the way, the race would go better for me. I was wrong about that.
Almost immediately after the first mile, we made a right turn into a wicked crosswind. In addition to the wind, the third half mile was completely uphill, probably a 2 or 3 percent grade. By this point, I realized that I was being passed a lot more than I was passing. I ran the second mile in a bit over eight minutes, so it was a bit of an improvement, especially considering the wind and the incline.
The third mile was rather uneventful, but it was difficult, not just because I was almost done with the race, but because I made an effort to not be passed by anyone. I did my best to speed up and run as fast as those wishing to pass me. I was able to hold most off, with only a few breezing by. Judging by my finishing time, though, I think speeding up probably got be back to my original speed, instead of getting me any faster.
Apparently, one of the units here got the idea that they would run this race for PT that morning. So, a whole unit ran the race in formation, calling cadence the whole way. It was rather motivating for me. They weren’t running fast, but all those soldiers yelling were a great impetus for me to keep driving forward.
And the race ended at the quarter-mile track, right where we started. I finished in 26:30. Not a terrible time, really. It averages to a little less than 9 minutes per mile,
So, we lined up around the track to get T-shirts. After I was there a couple minutes, that unit runs right up on us and past us to the registration desk. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. This turns out to be significant later.
While we’re lined up to get registered and get our T-shirts, some person yells from across the field, “We’re almost out of shirts. If you want one, come over here.” Well, what do you think happed? Yup, everyone beat feet over to the registration desk. I made my way across the field, but by the time I got there, it was pretty much a free for all, like food being handed out to starving people. It was unfair, really, because there were a lot of folks who finished in the top 600 that did not get shirts. And there were a lot folks who finished well past the 600 mark that did get shirts, including that unit that ran around to the registration desk and picked up a shirt for each person in the unit. I did not get a shirt. I’m not even sure I deserved a shirt, but I’ll never know for sure.
I went over to see my commander, who had a shirt. He noticed that I didn’t have a shirt and asked me what happened. I explained and he freely gave me his shirt. I noticed that he ran this race in a T-shirt from some other race, so something tells me that this was just another shirt to add to his collection.
