I Must Not Like Myself Very Much

Usually the first weekend in October is spent hosting some out-of-town friends and making the annual pilgrimage to the Kentucky Wool Fest, held each year in the town of Falmouth, Kentucky, where Jason and I spent our first year as a married couple. We decided a while ago to give the Wool Fest a rest this year; we've really seen everything there is to see there, and our friends have a new baby, and it didn't seem worth fighting the crowds this year. It's a good time; there are deformed animals to pet in the petting zoo, lots of "craft" booths, and you get to learn everything you ever wanted or didn't want to know about sheep shearing. But there are only so many consecutive years you can stand to see 3-legged baby goats and beer-can pinwheels and mobiles. We had planned on a getaway to Louisville to visit them, but it became clear in the week before that Ainsley's terrible chest cold and asthma issues were going to make it unwise to leave town and spread germs to two other little kids. So, for the first time in a bunch of years, we were left to our own devices on what usually is the first weekend of the year to really feel like fall.

Only, in my little part of the world, the first weekend in October this year felt more like the first weekend in August. It is hot up in here. So, when Ainsley showed signs of improvement after 13 hours of sleep Friday night (awesome!) and my mom asked if she could spend the night Saturday night, my and Jason's first thought was...let's go run a 5K in 90-degree temps! Rock on!

We're not bright sometimes.

The biggest 5K in the Cincinnati area is the Reggae Run, which is an evening race with over 5,000 participants through the scenic (and hilly) Hyde Park area followed by a HUGE party with a Reggae band and free food and drinks for the participants. I scoffed a bit at the party thing, especially the 4 beer/wine tickets each participant gets. Really? Beer and wine after running? After completing the race, though, I completely get it. If they didn't lure you with that, and free food from dozens of vendors, I don't think anyone would be dumb enough to actually want to run the thing.

That race was possibly the most brutal 30 minutes I have ever voluntarily subjected my body to (well, since the "Green Lightning" hooch party in college, anyway.) It wasn't just the heat. It was the heat of the day, plus being surrounded by thousands of sweaty, cardiovascularly-strained people putting out even more heat and blocking all hopes of a breeze, plus two hill climbs that felt like they were never going to stop. Lots of people around me gave up on the hills and started walking. And the sad thing is, even though I "ran" the whole way and didn't stop to walk, I was going no faster than some of the walkers on the final hill. I didn't care. I just wanted it to be over.

When it was over, they were out of cups. So I crossed the finish line, feeling every heart beat in my tomato-red face, struggling to catch my breath in the humid air, and saw that I couldn't even have a cup of water. Seriously, you organize a race on a 90-degree day, and you run out of cups? Seriously? People were just going up to the volunteers and having them pour water from pitchers and garden hoses into their mouths.

Jason had crossed several minutes ahead of me, and was able to get a cup, so we shared. By the time the walkers we went with finished, I had topped off our cup with hose water at least 4 times. And I was still dying.

We kept hearing rumors of bottled water, but by the time we could get to the water booth, it was gone. We eventually did snag some, but only after we had all four been sharing one cup and drank some Pepsi to just try to cool off (nothing like drinking a fizzy, caffeinated beverage when you're already dehydrated.)

After almost an hour of cooling off, and swearing that I would never, ever do that race again because it wasn't worth the aggravation, I hit the beer booth. Suddenly, the party was a lot more fun.

And four beer/wine tickets? Just enough for a few hours of after-partying. If you don't care how you feel the next day.

After hearing this morning that the Chicago Marathon had to be stopped yesterday due to heat (one runner collapsed and died, and many more had to be treated in hospitals) I am both proud that I finished a distance race in such unseasonable conditions and a little mad at myself for pushing myself and willingly running in a heat index that sends people to the ER. Not that a 5K is anywhere near as gruelling as the marathon, but thinking back to how I felt after I crossed the finish line (and how I still feel a little off two days later) I've realized I probably pushed the limits of my physical abilities further than I needed to. A few foamy beers are not worth the risk of heat stroke.

Though it does a good job of making you forget your pain at the time.