Apple Blossom 10K

Yesterday's race was in awesomely gorgeous mid-60 degree temps with a slight breeze in Winchester, Virginia. As always, at the starting line, my real-time running buddy, Butch, took off (he starts fast and then slows down a bit as the miles pile up). And, as always, I let him go and I lagged behind. But the first mile was all hills, and I just couldn't catch him as I usually do. I soon realized I was running way too hard for a 6-mile race. So I just slowed down, found my pace and ran my own race. I was a bit disappointed at that point, as based on last year's statistics, I had a shot at a win in my age and gender group.
The run was really hard--and no Butch anywhere, so I figured I was running real hard AND real slow.
And there were lots of spectators scattered alongside the race route, hollering out the names of friends and family members as they ran by. I'd pick it up a bit when the crowds were the most dense. I played mind games with myself. Every time I was tempted to slow down I'd think, "Y'never know. The kids could be in the crowd of spectators somewhere. You gotta keep going just in case."

I felt like I was running very hard. But Butch wasn't anywhere in the hundreds that I could see (over 1100 runners, according to the race stats posted on the wall at the start). I hadn't passed that many people, so I couldn't imagine that I'd passed him and not known it.
And then at a turn-around point, I met Butch heading for the U-turn I had just taken. I had passed him somewhere, which was good. But he wasn't that far behind. Egad! I thought. I must have slowed down more than I thought. By this point in a 5K (a 3-miler), he's usually a couple minutes behind. Mind you this wasn't about competing AGAINST Butch. But I know what pace Butch runs, and I know what pace I run. So if Butch was this close, I figured I had to be running a lot slower than I usually do. I knew I wouldn't win now, but I at least wanted to maintain my usual running pace. And I for sure didn't want to be running slower than the Half, a distance twice as far. So I tried to pick it up again.
Then I came to the 5K, the halfway point, and the clock said I'd only been running for about 26 minutes. I was running below 9-minute-mile pace, right around my usual 5K pace. And this was a 10K. So I did my best to just maintain, knowing now that I had a chance for a personal record anyway. And I was encouraged, knowing there was only about 25-30 minutes left to run. Surely I could maintain.
Another U-turn. And at this one, Butch was a bit farther behind. Much better. But at about the 5 1/2 mark, I ran out of gas. I kept moving my legs, but they were no longer connected and I had no clue how I was doing. I just kept telling them to move and hoped they did. When the finish line came into view though, I thought, "I've got to hurry; if I don't get across that line within the next couple seconds I'll fall on my face in front of it." I really had no clue where my legs were; there were just these chunks of lead where they used to be.
One last hard push and I crossed the finish line, gasping for air. The chip puller asked, "Are you okay?"
I couldn't breathe, let alone talk, so I just nodded my head.
"Is it okay if I take the chip?"
Again, another nod. Pacing, circling, gasping. . .Finally I could breathe enough to realize I needed to get out of the chute area, and I headed for a bottle of water.
About a minute or two later, Butch crossed the finish line, too. The stats? I ran that 10K with a chip time of 54:09, an 8:43 mile pace (my fastest ever 5K was an 8:11, and this was twice the distance. Usually my 5Ks are between 8:30 and 9 minute mile pace).

And Butch? He ran a whole minute faster than he ran the same race last year, and quite a bit faster than he's run all spring. That's why I was struggling so much to stay in my usual "spot," 2-3 minutes in front of him. So we were both very pleased. Very good races for both of us.

And, no, I didn't win. But I did take second in my age and gender group, and brought home a Thomas Jefferson engraved pewter cup hand crafted in Richmond, Virginia.
The grandkids admired my cup and said, "This is MUCH better than winning money, Grammie. At least you can use the cup for something. Money. . .it just gets lost. Or you have to buy something with it."