STILL: Race #9 - Go! St. Louis 5K 2011

I posted the following quote on Facebook last night after I picked up my race packet (and the Blonde Bomber’s) at the expo for my NINTH race ever:

“There is only one thing more full of promise than picking up my race packet at the expo: When I'm in the corral waiting for the starting gun to go off. Runners of all ability (or distinct lack thereof in my case) are my tribe.”

Am I the only one who gets all of those crazy-wonderful-emotional “oh, holy gee” moments when it comes to races? 

I find myself STILL unable to stop smiling at the lovely volunteer shuffling through a sea of bibs to find mine.  My own.  My very own. 

I find myself STILL getting amped, buzzed, wired, scared, elated, and a whole lotta sappy as I gather in the starting line with a growing crowd of runners.  Young, old, tall, short, fat, thin, slow, fast.  These are my people.  This is my tribe.

I find myself STILL getting a little verklempt when the National Anthem is sung right before the race begins.  When those notes reach those famous crescendos, what gratitude I have to be able to live where I do.

I find myself STILL getting this ginormous goofy grin when that starting gun goes off and then WE --the tribe -- goes off, embarking on our quest to compete against each other, but mostly, to compete against ourselves.  What gratitude I have when the wind sings by and my feet move over that pavement.  I can run. 

Stats for Race #9:  Chip time 42:32.  Average speed 4.5mph (hilly!), max speed 8.0mph (sprinting that last quarter mile).  Not my best, not my worst.  Yet enthralling and full of all of those crazy-wonderful-emotional “oh, holy gee” moments.

STILL.

 

Long live The Stoke.