Leaf Peepers 5km: The Aftermath

So I did it. I ran a 5km race. And I survived.

Barely.

Kate and Ben picked me up Saturday morning to drive up to Vermont. Despite my lack of training I was psyched. I, of course, stayed up until almost 3am making the perfect Vermont Leaf Peepers Race Road Trip mix. Luckily, and not surprisingly, Kate and Ben got lost trying to get to Jersey City giving me enough time for the requisite oversleeping and a quick hop in the shower so as not to stink up the car for the 7 hour drive.

At the last minute I decide to call my dad as I realize that while me and Kate both know how to get to Vermont from Monroe, neither of us know how to get there from Jersey City. My dad on the other hand knows how to get anywhere from everywhere.

The problem with getting directions from my dad is this: he will start out by giving you the easiest, most direct directions - this is good. he will then continue to give you alternative directions as follows, "if there's traffic on rt. 17 you can get off on rt. 80 and take the parkway. or you can get off at rt. 27 and take that to the ny thruway or take rt. 17 to rt. 80 to rt. 27 or the turnpike to the parkway to the thruway, etc., etc.' - this is not good. so what started out as very simple directions is now a full sheet of paper of just scribbles.

So we hit the road. I offer to drive first. Considering I've gotten approximately 5 hours of sleep, this is a mistake. But they let me drive. I pop in my ipod and hand it off to Ben to start up the Vermont Leaf Peepers Race Road Trip mix. He can't find it. I make snarky remarks about the skill level involved to use an ipod. I snatch it away to do it myself. I can't find it. It didn't load. I repeat, it didn't load. The mix I spent hours putting together, staying up until all hours of the morning so that we could enjoy some good road tunes on our trip, didn't load! You can't take a road trip without a road trip mix. It's just not done. I am devastated. I momentarily consider turning around and heading back to my apartment to try again. The trip is now, officially, ruined for me.

We put the ipod on shuffle and drive on following my dad's now extremely confusing directions. What my dad failed to mention is that the initial exit we were to be looking for was immediately after we got off of the turnpike. We missed this exit. We never even had a chance with this exit. The problem now is that I did notice the exits for all of these alternate roads my dad threw at me. I even considered taking them but as my dad suggested these as alternatives if, and only if, there was traffic on the initial route and as there wasn't I just kept on going. Until we started to see signs for Pennsylvania.

Last time I checked, Pennsylvania - not on the way to Vermont.

So I call my dad, which is my next mistake. While my dad is really good at giving directions, he doesn't take well to people who get lost using those directions. First there is the yelling - how did you miss the exit!?! how did you miss all those other exits!?! i don't even know where you are!?! Then he just hangs up out of pure frustration. Then he calls back slightly calmer and explains that as we have gone at least twenty miles out of our way past the last logical exit, to just keep going and in a few more miles we will come to exit 38 and to take that to get us to the road we need to get back on track. So this is the new plan.

As I get closer to Exit 38 I make my way to the right lane and start to slow down. No way I'm missing this exit. We approach exit 37. I'm prepared. I'm watching the signs and then...exit 39! WTF! We get off at exit 39, confused, bewildered, where's exit 38?? We get back on the road, this time going in the opposite direction. Maybe, I reason, you can only reach this exit coming from the south? I realize this doesn't make sense, but neither does exit 38 just not existing at all!

We get back on the highway coming off of exit 39. I stay in the right lane as exit 38 should be next. Should be, being the operative term. It is not. There is no exit 38. Exit 38 does not exist. We get off at exit 37 and find ourselves at some twisted seaside-like snackbar except in the middle of nowhere in north jersey. We ask them about exit 38 - they've never heard of an exit 38. They know not of what we speak. They look at us funny for even asking the whereabouts of exit 38. I get a hotdog and we get back on the road.

Since there is no exit 38 and calling my dad back and trying to explain this is not an option, we choose instead to drive 20 miles back to the last alternative exit to get us where we need to go.

An hour into the drive and we're still in fucking New Jersey.

About two hours into the drive, it starts. The sickness. I find myself in the backseat, curled up into a ball, trying desperately not to vomit. This is how I spend the majority of the drive, attempting to sleep, downing midol, hating life.

We arrive. Within minutes I can't breath. Now in addition to serious stomach pains, my allergies decide to get in on the game. Anthony's not breathing too well either. My theory is that Jill did something to the house to screw with the ventilation or something to take down her competition. Little did she know, no such measures were necessary, I was already defeated. Anthony and Jill offer us a typical Vermont dinner - there's a lot of greenery involved, lots of unidentified objects they refer to as vegetables. I'm not interested. I cuddle on the couch with Sadie.

It's an early night. Everyone wants to be prepared for the run the next morning. I'm exhausted and still in all sorts of pain. I down any medication I can find to dull the pains in my stomach, my head and to help me to breath. Nothing seems to be working. I wait for sleep. It doesn't come. Who knew there was caffeine in Midol?

I get absolutely no sleep what-so-ever. I am miserable. I do not want to be in Vermont. I do not want to have to run 3 miles in just a few hours. I want to be at home, in my bed, alone, asleep. But I am not. I suck it up.

The next morning we drive out to the race site. I'm actually feeling slightly less death-like, but still not altogether pleasant, on top of which I'm exhausted from a complete lack of sleep. Shockingly, it's also cold in Vermont. Who knew? All I brought to run in are shorts and a t-shirt. As we stand around waiting for the race to start I freeze.

The 5kers run first with the half marathon runners starting ten minutes later. I stand with Jill and Ben waiting to run. I'm awake, but barely. Running 3 miles is honestly the last thing in the world I want to be doing right now. We check out our competition. Standing near us is a woman who had to be in her 90's. She is wearing possibly the greatest thing ever: a neon pink spandex running outfit. It's amazing. I am distracted by the amazing neon spandex amazingness. At 25 I could not pull off this outfit but this 90-something year old woman is totally owning it. I still don't want to run. I'd much rather just stand around and make fun of people. The race starts. I suck it up and run.

I run the first leg of the run with Jill. Normally when I run alone I will run really fast for really short spurts and then take half-second breaks in between. In order to run with Jill, I'm slowing down my normal pace but running continuously for much longer than I normally would. We wind up running for 2 miles straight, mostly catching up on gossip along the way. I'm not really taking this race seriously, and it doesn't seem like Jill is either, and we're both okay with this. We're running but not trying to kill ourselves to beat anyone or anything. Speaking of, Ben beat us both by about 7 minutes. I'm just saying.

After the second mile I decide to take off on my own. Partially because I'm bored of running so slow and really just want to finish this stupid thing and partially because I want to beat Jill. I'm surprisingly competitive about certain things with certain people. Mostly my really close friends and family. Most of the time I talk a big game but have no real chance of actually delivering on all my shit talking but as it turns out I am actually faster than Jill and have a good shot at taking her down so I go for it.

I'm keeping a fairly good pace when these really really fit men go flying by me. I realize that some of the half marathoners have caught up with me. I pick up my pace, knowing full well how awful I'll feel about life if my brother passes me after being given a 10 minute head start. I make it to the bridge where the 5kmer and the half marathoners split off without seeing my brother, an accomplishment in itself. As I turn the corner I can see the finish line, I'm almost there. Behind me I hear some serious heavy breathing. I turn and see the 90-year-old woman in all her pink spandexy awesomeness. As awesome as she is though, there is no way in hell I'm letting her beat me. She can barely walk and yet she's about a foot behind me on a 5km race. This is pathetic. I pick up my pace.

I finish the race at a pathetic 34 minutes. I beat the 90-year-old woman by only 40 seconds. I beat Jill by a full minute. Yes, Jill got beat by the 90-year-old! After the race I sit down in the little cooling down area and eat a cracker and some water. I'm feeling okay. Sad about my pathetic time but happy to have finished the race at all. After a few minutes, Ben and I go in search of Jill. After we find her we find a little grassy knoll where we can sit and wait for Anthony and Katie. As soon as I sit I realize how tired I am and just completely pass out. I wake up about twenty minutes later to see the first half marathoner cross the finish line. His time is a few minutes over an hour. This guy ran 13 miles in less than double the time it took me to run 3 miles. He hasn't even broken a sweat. He doesn't even bother with the little cooling down area. A few minutes later he's jogging down the street with the guy who finished second. He's clearly a ridiculous human being. About a half hour later my brother finishes and 30 minutes after that so does Katie.

We celebrate at a local pub with booze and food all of which just makes me even more sleepy. We go back to Jill and Anthony's and Jill puts on the football game. I think she's maybe joking. She's not. I pass out on the couch.

The next day we drive back to Jersey.

Back at my apartment I hang up my little runner number thing. I'll let myself pretend I'm a runner. I can pretend that it didn't take me 34 minutes to run 3 miles and that I didn't only barely beat a woman almost 4 times my age.

I can pretend and I can train and next Memorial Day weekend I can run in the Burlington City Marathon and I can kick some ass. Here's hoping.

Countdown to Burlington City Marathon: 181 days