*asterisk

As 2015 began, I was starting to get a racing itch. I ran regularly throughout the holidays, but my last race had been the Feast & Feathers on Thanksgiving. I’d been running, which was good, but I needed an organized event–I needed to be around other runners. My next scheduled race wasn’t until early February which meant a racing drought of over two months.

Not. Okay.

I missed that feeling of race day anticipation.

I missed the camaraderie of fellow runners.

I missed having a set goal and purpose for a run (not just running for me).

I missed lining up on a start line and crossing a finish line.

I missed crap like this.

I obsessively checked websites, but other than a couple of New Year’s Day races that weren’t close enough be viable, the well was dry. There was finally one event that could be a possibility: an untimed, non-competitive fun run hosted by the local running group.

As a way to break up the dead-of-winter doldrums, a group of local runners devised “The Y to Y Run.” The distance between the Grand Island and Hastings YMCAs (on runnable roads) is quite close to 26.2 miles; runners can run solo or as a relay; they can also start at the halfway point in Doniphan for 13ish miles.

I put out a call to my friends on Facebook to see if anyone would be willing to do a relay, either the full or half distance. I had considered the half distance as a solo, but it is an unsupported run and I didn’t feel like carrying all my fuel, water, and whatnot with me. My friend Erika, a new runner, expressed interest in the half distance as a relay, if we could get someone else to run. She rounded up her boss, and I convinced my husband to run. We’d each have a leg of 3ish miles.

January temperatures in Nebraska generally range from the teens to the 30s, but a north front can bring the most bitter of cold, so I watched the weather closely. We had been having some pretty awful cold–some days the high wouldn’t even reach double digits. The forecast for Y to Y, however, was looking good with lows in the 30s and a high of upper 40s. Good news, everyone! It was going to be ridiculously windy (25-mph sustained), but it was going to be a north wind for a southbound route.

We were about to be tailwind heroes.

Lord, give me sails.

I took the third leg, a three-mile stretch that ended up being mostly on a delightful minimum maintenance road. (If you’ve never had the pleasure of running on a dirt road through the country, I feel much pity for you.) I started out at a strong pace to see what I was capable of.

‘Murica.

One of my goals for 2014 was to break thirty minutes for a 5K, which means I would have to average roughly 9:30/mile. Throughout the many, many 5Ks I ran that year, I never made it. I PRed in March in just over 30 at a 9:45 average, but the vast majority of my races didn’t even come close.

I jetted out, with the wind shoving at my back. I pushed hard, but found a happy pace and I cruised along without any pain or fatigue. I tried not to obsess over my time, but I did catch a glance and saw I was under a 9:30 pace. When my watch beeped for my first mile split, I saw I had a 9:28 mile. I was pleased with myself, but I wasn’t going to fret over it; I still had at least two miles to go, and I wasn’t sure if I could maintain the same pace for that distance.

Into my second mile, I came upon another runner. As I started to pass her, she tried to make small talk with me. She had started a few miles after Doniphan, and was running about eight miles solo. With the wind, it was tough to hear; I paced beside her as she asked me about who I was and how far I was going. I had a feeling she had been getting a little lonely, so I didn’t mind running with her for a little bit, but I knew that I had slowed down considerably. The run organizer pulled beside us and drove slowly alongside us, checking our progress and making sure we had everything we needed. As he got into a deeper conversation with the other runner, I gave a friendly wave and went on my way. Mile 2 clocked in at 10:53.

If you look closely, you can see where I had company.

After my hangup on mile two, I wasn’t too worried about trying to break a 30-min 5K, but I still felt good; I knew I had teammates waiting for me; and I had had to pee for the last 45 minutes, so I kicked it in gear. I was almost relieved, however; could I really count this as a PR, when the wind was practically blowing me towards town? My husband said that “wind-aided” records never counted in the big leagues. I was keeping a quick (for me) pace, and it felt relatively effortless. If I would’ve set a new PR, I would’ve had to put an asterisk by it; I wouldn’t have earned full bragging rights. It was probably for the best, anyway.

fin.

My final mile was in 9:19, giving me a finishing time of 30:22 for 3.08 miles, a 9:51/mile average pace. So, my current PR stands. Asterisk free.

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