The River Rodent 5K/10K may be the best race ever.  But I might just think that because I’ve run it three times now, and each and every time I have managed to eke out both a PR AND an age group award. That means that I now have a fairly impressive collection of rat themed mugs.  Currently, age group awards consist of ceramic coffee mugs emblazoned with a scarily skinny, running rat. Said rat demonstrates impressive form, but for some unknown reason he’s wearing a wrestling singlet – which is NOT a good look for members of the rodentia family.  Still, I LOVE these mugs.   I love them so much that all members of the moose family are strictly forbidden from drinking from them.  They’re just fer lookin’ et, kinda like my resin moose collection, my highly coveted collection of brown glass Lysol bottles and my myriad other tasteful objets d’art. 

I had lots of good company at the run this year.  J. and her family were there, as were  Bradeline and their three kids.  Five of the six kids ran, either in the kid’s fun runs or in the 5K.  M. finished the 5K in a speedy, speedy fast 27:00, despite the fact that she had to stop to tie her shoe. J.’s daughter finished her first 5K ever, which was wildly exciting, and her six-year-old son finished the one mile fun run in 10:20.  And that kindergartner never even trains!!  Like, at ALL.  I’m fairly certain that J.’s been slipping performance enhancing drugs into little A.’s after school milk and cookies.  She’s a good mom like that.

I had a couple of different goals for today’s 10K.  First and foremost, I wanted to avoid befouling my shorts.   To ensure meeting this goal, I took Immodium prior to the run.  When one fell into the toilet I considered going in after it.   But the damn toilet water dissolved the pill before I could get it out.  I just don’t know why the makers of pharmaceuticals do NOT have the common sense to apply urine resistant coating to their pills – Gawd!!  I cussed mightily and popped another Immodium in my mouth. 

My second goal was to come in in under 47:00, which is my 10K PR and my time at this run last year. To ensure meeting this goal, I hoped and wished and crossed my fingers real, real hard. Because hoping, and wishing and finger crossing is WAY easier than actually working for it – training sucks, people.  I kid, I kid.  I have actually been doing some speed work.  Not enough and not consistently, but some.  J. and I went to the track on Tuesday and I abused myself with some 800 repeats, and we’ve decided that this needs to be a weekly event. We’re masochists like that.

There is no starting mat at this race,  so I decided to push my way up towards the front.  It’s a whole different world up there, people. Everyone is silent and serious. They ALL have Garmins and they actually get into position when the announcer says, “On your mark”.  I usually take the “On your mark” statement as a fine time to dig the underwear outta my butt, but today I copied my fellow runners and tried to look legit.  

I ran hard the whole way, only stopping briefly to drink at the three water stops.  (I just can NOT master that whole drink-while-you-run thing.  With every attempt I just get better and better at the whole choke-and-gag-and sputter-and-vomit-while-you-run thing.) I knew I was doing fairly well because Vic was reading a 7:3x pace much of the time.  Near the end I sprinted for all I was worth.  It felt like I was flying, and I know I was covering lots of ground with each step but some douchebag STILL passed me at the end.  I hope his testicles wither and drop off.  

I heard lots of cheering at the end, thanks to J. and Bradelineand their noisy offspring. I tried to express my appreciation, but that would have required energy and the ability to talk/smile/give a thumbs up, and I just didn’t have it in me. Winning a rat cup takes a whole lot outta ya. They told me later that they were chanting “Barf! Barf! Barf! Barf!”  in honor of the incessently vomiting 5K finisher who completely befouled the finish line area.  In my confused and exhausted stupor, I thought they were telling me that I was sitting in a pool of vomit, but I just couldn’t muster up the energy to relocate. ‘Cause what’s a little vomit residue among runners?   

 Behold my stats, people:

46:29

7:29 pace

61/220 overall

8/94 females

1/16 age group

Hopefully, that silly race committee will expand their rat themed awards in the future.  My fervent wish is to acquire a complete service for eight of rat themed dishware.  Mugs are just the beginning.  I’m thinking plates, gravy boats, salad bowls - all emblazoned with that skinny, singlet wearing rodent. This will make a fine heirloom to bequeth to the Girl Moose.  ‘Cause the Boy Moose has already called dibs on those glass Lysol bottles.