Read and Run 5k - Burns, TN

The last Saturday in August found us gathering in and around the old elementary school gymnasium in Burns for the first annual Read and Run 5k promoting literacy and fitness in Dickson County. A typically hot and humid summer day in Middle Tennessee, I was most thankful for the 7:00 p.m. start time.

With about an hour to kill before the race started, I kept busy by jogging, walking, and standing around shooting the breeze. We were adjacent to the youth football field so I took a short run down the length of the field to the opposite end zone and back. I wanted to sprint down the sideline, imagining I was running back a game-winning interception, but I knew that would not be beneficial in any way to my race performance.

As runners came together near the start line in the moments leading up to the beginning of the race, I observed that most participants were hanging back, allowing the more "serious" runners plenty of space to claim up near the front. Even with a modest turnout of about 65 competitors, I knew there was no way I would finish near the head of the pack. I didn't want to crowd the line, but because I felt like I had a chance of being competitive in my age group, I chose to start closer to the front than I customarily do.

We took off on time with quite a few folks hustling right out of the gate, as if they were trying to beat out a ground ball to shortstop. It's tempting to try to keep up at the onset, and I think indeed I was moving too fast, even though I was telling myself to run my pace and not worry with what everyone else was doing. Probably within the first two tenths of a mile, I passed by a runner who had already succumbed to walking. For the first half-mile or so, I would eclipse many more (and be left in the dust by a few others).

At maybe a half-mile in, my right shoelace came undone. This had never happened to me in a race before. Not only had I neglected to retie them before the race, but I had also fell out of the habit of double-tying after purchasing new shoes a while back. It was way too early in the race to have to stop for this nonsense. I figured I would lose several positions by stopping to tie my shoe and might not be able to get them back. I would have to stop at some point, but for now I would push on a little further, at least until the herd thinned around me.

I finished the first mile in 7:39, which is too fast for me, but because I wasn't far behind a runner who I knew to be good, I was still hesitant to stop and address my shoelace for fear of ruining my performance. The thought of getting tripped up by my wayward shoelace never left my mind, however, and I could visualize me taking a hard dive on the pavement, an event in which a ruined performance could be the least of my worries.

By the time mile number two was preparing to hand off to mile number three, a couple of other runners were petering out. With my shoelace flopping about and my side cramping (that's exercise related transient abdominal pain, or ETAP, for those keeping score at home), I moved ahead a couple of positions. The introduction of side stitches added another layer of disbelief and frustration to the competition for me. I have been running three times per week since April, and this was the first occurrence I'd had. All I could think is that maybe I drank a bit too much water too close to race time in a desperate attempt to compensate for what I feared may have been insufficient consumption throughout the day.

Now within earshot of the commotion surrounding the finish line, I refused to look at my watch. The last time I peeked at it was at the completion of mile one, and I was afraid of how much my pace might have slowed since then. Turning the final corner with shoelace untied, I was thrilled to observe that I would come in under the 25-minute mark. Don't trip now, I thought. Dashing across the line at 24:51, a new personal best, I would be pleased to learn, too, how this equaled an 8:00/mile pace, a goal of mine for nearly a year now.

The biggest surprise was during the awards ceremony upon hearing my name called for first place in the men's 40-49 year-old category. Granted it was a small field, but it always feels good taking first place, particularly after enduring months of training designed specifically to perform at your highest level in a specific type of event. That's what I want to believe anyway, that all those endless hours of sweaty dedication to my thoughtful training regimen paid off in spades. But, so as not to leave anything to chance, I plan on running with one shoe untied from here on out.