Race?

Technically, I ran a 5K race on Saturday. It didn't go very well, but I'm working on making the best of it. There were a few weeks in which I was feeling good while running back in March, but somewhere along my journey, I stumbled left into "meh" territory. I have felt flat, overly nervous, mentally fatigued, and disappointed the last month or so. In many ways, I've managed to move forward, but I feel like I'm stuck in a hole filled with thick mud. There's also a strange sadness in my life that comes in waves, though I can't remember the last time I cried, possibly back in February when I fell and tore my bicep, but that was more crying out than actual crying.

As for the race, my stomach wasn't feeling great on the warm up. Not even 100 meters into it, I almost quit, but then I reminded myself how many years I endured horrible cramps with the adenomyosis and figured I could hang on for 25 minutes, give or take.

I didn't realize that the race would take place on sidewalks, not the road. This was difficult for several reasons, the many 90-degree turns being one of them. My feet with all their nerve issues did not like that one bit, but the reality of the situation was that my stomach and lack of oomph were what held me back most. I couldn't find another gear for the life of me, so I plodded along. A 5K can feel so long or so short depending on how you're feeling. This one felt long, very long.

The few hills were a welcome sight on the course, as were the ducks and the pretty scenery in general. The sights kept my mind off my discomfort, and hills, well, I just like them. Everyone was very nice, especially the young lady who breezed past me toward the end. The guy whom I passed and who finished on my heels, literally, he stepped on my heel at the finish line, seemed nice, too. Everyone was very encouraging and positive, but their good vibes weren't enough to get me to dig as deep as I wanted to.

I finished, though, and ended up fourth. It looks like I won the masters division, which is funny, because when the young lady passed me toward the end, I immediately thought, "I'm fucking old." I'm embarrassed about my time, 23:27, but it was a tough race for a lot of reasons. In a lot of ways, I was simply trying to overcome some fears, but there's always a part of me that wants to do well. I guess I have to start somewhere, and after the last surgery I had on my foot, this will have to do. There's no doubt that I need to figure out a few things to make my next effort go more smoothly.

My stomach still isn't feeling great, and I'm sore, but I'm still on my feet. For that, I'm very grateful. I most grateful for the people in my life who support me, though. I've gotten a lot of help with reducing my chronic pain and increasing my mobility and strength. Baby steps. I'm also getting a lot of suggestions to go easy on myself. That's a tough one, but I'm working on it. I have to look at the positives and accept where I am without getting too down about it. I'm healthier than I was a few months ago, more physically sound, so that's an improvement. Now to translate that into something more exciting than mediocre, and I mean more my attitude in the race than the outcome.