Last week I decided I was going to run the Gator Gallop, which is an easy two mile run (in the middle of the day) preceeding the UF homecoming parade. People run with their dogs and kids and strollers and stuff, so it’s not like it’s all hard and competitive, but because it’s immediately before the parade, there are TONS of people lining the streets, theoretically cheering you on, but mostly wishing you’d hurry up so the parade can start and they can get candy.
I did this race a couple of years ago, and actually trained for it. I knew I wasn’t going to win or anything, but I wanted to get MY best time, and outdoors, at noon, I’d be really happy to run two miles in 16 minutes. REALLY happy. For lo, I am slower than the tortoise. Anyway, that didn’t exactly work out. In fact, due to a whole bunch of different things, I probably ran the slowest two miles of my life. EVER.
So this year, I’m going into it with LOW expectations. And Jared’s right there with me — he even went running with me this afternoon, and kicked my ass. It was my second workout of the day, so I’m going to blame my utter slowness on that. And on the fact that I did a longer run, because not only am I doing the Gator Gallop (next Friday), but I’m doing a 5K the following weekend.
Literally HOURS after I decided to do the Gator Gallop, another friend asked me to run with her in the Dog Days 5K. I figure, two miles, three miles, no big difference. But let me tell you, that last mile today? Oooh, I was hurting. Of course, it was approximately a million degrees outside (rumor has it that it’ll cool down next week), but still, I’m going to need a little luck thrown my way, if you can spare it. Because while I’m not UNhappy with three 10-minute miles, I’d like to show a little improvement. Either way, though, I get t-shirts. And isn’t that what races are all about?