A Day at the Races

How do I describe my first timed race? Here's how I imagine a first-grader would write about this kind of big day.

"My First Race"

My first race was fun. I ran 4 miles. There were a lot of people. Most of the people ran faster than I did. Most of the people probably didn't run 13 miles yesterday. An old man ran past me fast juggling three balls. He didn't drop any. My friend David ran with me most of the way. He did most of the talking because I am not good at talking, breathing and running at the same time. I am working on it. I practiced grabbing cups of water and trying to drink and run. The first time I squeezed the cup to form a spout and kept going. Most of the water went up my nose because I was bobbing up and down. I walked with my cup the next time. It was cold. The park was very pretty. There were a lot of trees with pink flowers. I am very tired. I am happy that I ran a race today. I am proud of myself.

The End.

That pretty much sums it up. I just looked up the race results and my time was 52:35, a 13:08 pace, which is only 2 seconds slower than the average pace I'm supposed to run in long runs. This was meant to be an easy run; I definitely took it easy. I was excited by all the hoopla. It was a short race and there wasn't a big emotional ending. Still, there is something inherently emotional about all firsts, especially one like this, which is so unexpected. (The race symbolizes the choice to undertake running at all for me, not competition per se.) I wanted to try to capture the innocence and excitement that comes with entering a new world. I remember from visiting my Aunt Oofie's first grade class that little kids are good at cutting through the bull and telling the story as they lived it. They capture the essentials with clarity and simplicity. It sounds silly coming from an adult, but I wanted to try a different approach.

The photo with David was taken right after the race. My face tells the story, too.

Today: 4
Miles to date: 138.6