Lounging Tiger, Welcome Gestures

On the shelf since a Shelby Bottoms 5K in late December, I grudgingly signed up for the Zoo Run Run, the annual Nashville Zoo's annual fundraiser. Last year I bundled up, dealt with numb toes until somewhere in the bamboo forest. 

I couldn't make it out for the rare snow leopard cubs they displayed briefly in 2009, but I come out to South Nashville for the strenuous 3.1-miler. My priorities are definitely out of whack. 

But this year came with several lovely wrinkles. After a surprisingly chilly January (for Nashville), it turned positively balmy Saturday afternoon. Whenever the wind picked up, January assured it would not go forgotten, but this weather was a far cry from last year.  I caught the Clancys with their daughter at the starting line; despite the race sellout, they were going renegade and walking the course anyway. Perennial 5K'ers Chris and Lindsay soon appeared as well. I can't say enough about having a friendly field at a race; it's easy to feel alone in a crowd. 

As the races pile up, course are occasionally forgotten. The cold of 2009 probably cleansed most memories of the zoo route, but it had not changed at all. But the weather allowed for more animals to appear. Last year, I totally missed the big cats past Mile 2, but now glimpsed the siberian tiger relaxing, stretched out in a way which totally hid the massive speed and force it could dish out if a lesser creature entered the enclosure. The snaking course meant other runners minutes ahead were frequently in view, 

Cramps nearly delayed me at the halfway point; less than six weeks ago I chugged through Memphis, and now a little three-mile course threatened to waylay me. But an attractive stranger wouldn't have it. A girl I had never seen and likely wouldn't see again, grabbed me and wouldn't let me slow down. "You're running with me. We'll keep each other going," she said. I got up the hill and forgot the cramps thanks to the uncommonly kind racing gesture. 

Shortly after the 2-mile marker, she bowed out to walk, despite my urging; I felt somewhat guilty for not keeping her going. I felt worse for not knowing the course and the relative lack of steep inclines on the final mile. Cramps and all, I finished with a time I won't post here. Until I end up south of 30 minutes, no time will. 

I ran into her briefly at the finish line - with boyfriend in tow and taking a dim view of my interaction with his better half. We traded pleasantries and she held no ill will for my departure on the course. Once the cramps force you to stop, the gradually wear me down to where I'm only covering a few hundred feet between walking stops. Thanks to this girl's initiative, her willingness to break with disregard and borderline disdain runners usually display toward each other (I'm looking at you, stroller Nazis), the cramps didn't win. 

Neither did I, not with that time, but I can't remember the last time I felt so upbeat after so short a race. Maybe next time, I can act as the friendly stranger. Karma demands it.