Huffing up the last hill into the staging area for the Conquer the Creek 5K run Saturday, I had few other thoughts beyond rehydration and a bagel to quiet my stomach.
The race organizers had other plans. After a run where level, dry ground barely made a presence and I was just glad to get in the car with my 30:19 run time, they wanted to know my age -- and wanted to give me a first place medal for my age group.
I replied as any gracious plodder on his fourth 5K would: "Are you kidding me?"
That was enough to halt the abdominal cramps and hoist a smile - and not the usual post-race smile at morning sunshine burning through the clouds a half-hour too late.
Now, let's qualify that: all other able-bodied runners between 20 and 29 either:
1. Ran the 10K (Maybe next year, baby).
2. Were downing their first beer on the long tailgating road leading to OSU-Michigan.
3. Showed better judgment than to runny a hilly, mud- and obstacle-covered course with temperatures in the 40's.
While a few woman in that age group ran, not a single other man bothered. I had to age bracket to myself.
A 14-year old finished about 10 minutes ahead of me, illustrating the impact of hard-living and in my case, not running regularly until pushing 30.
I may never taste the sweet nectar of 5K victory (natural stockiness and running are pieces from separate puzzles), but victory by default was by no means a beggar's feast.
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