The Peach Yogurt 5K report

Warning: way too long of a race report. But if you make it through it, you will see why. Or maybe you won’t. I wont be offended if you scroll ahead.

Because Kim become instantly addicted after setting out onto her first run less than 3 months ago, I find myself at just over 6 a.m. en route to Seaside Heights, N.J., for the “Marine Mammal Standing Center’s Harbor Seal 5K.” It will not stop raining the entire 2-hour drive. “I cannot believe we’re going to run in that!” I say about 6 times during the ride (I only asked, ‘are we almost there,’ once. really).

The starting point is Jumbo’s, this completely neon-littered restaurant/bar with giant statues of baseball figures, giant turtles and Charlie Chaplin, who we pose with, his arm looped through mine. Jumbo’s is right on the boardwalk in Seaside Heights.

“We’re here to race!” I announce to the sturdy looking man helping organize.
“And I’m here to cook!” Joe gaily answers.

We check in, stretch. “Help yourself to some yogurt or an orange or apple,” Joe tell us.
Great. I have not eaten and I forgot any nourishment this morning as I scrambled to get ready and had lost my wallet. I eat a peach yogurt. I don’t even notice till it’s gone that it’s 9:15 a.m. and the race is at 10. I try to give a 2 hour window. Shucks.

I’ve set a goal of 24 minutes, Kim a 10 mile pace. But it’s so windy and the boardwalk looks so slippery we wonder if we’ll hit that.

We line up. We’ve not been given time chips so we all get the same starting time. Non stop rain, wind and a chill in the air has kept runners away from this lovely little race. They’ve ordered 300 shirts but only around 70 runners end up here today.

Off we go. The boardwalk is not as slippery as I’d feared. The wind is worse than it looks.

First mile: “7:33” the girl at the water stand shouts!

Isn’t that great, that at a 5K there’s a water stop? I don’t know if that’s normal but that’s awesome.

Phew, I’m flying, I think to myself. But at least that will give me a little wriggle room. My pace is becoming hard for me to maintain.

I and two other girls are running around the same pace. I’m between them until around the 2 mile mark I decide to make a dash and pass the girl in front of me. I take a deep breath, and off I go.

The yogurt is threatening to come up. I swallow hard and keep pushing. The yogurt won’t quit it. Please don’t throw up in the middle of a 5K!

I’ve remained in front of the two girls. I see the finish line. 200 yards away. Girl I’ve passed makes a surge and passes me. I try desperately to keep my pace. Girl behind me passes me.

I’ve got nothing.

Second girl who passed me keeps looking over her shoulder. She needn’t bother.

I now am fighting the clock. The finish line grows closer but not fast enough. It’s 23:49, 23:52, 23:57...must…cross….finish…line. 23:59 is the last I see and I cross!

I keep running down the boardwalk, slowing to a jog as I try to settle my stomach. If I’m going to throw up, it’s going to be in private.

Then Kim crosses. We don’t know official times yet but we know she’s come in under her 10 minute pace goal. Hurrah!

We head into restaurant. Scrambled eggs, potatoes, bacon, sausage, bagels, coffee, beer, orange juice and a happy, excitable crowd awaits us.

The awards ceremony will happen soon, the guy over the loudspeaker announces.

I had completely forgotten about that!

The field is small, so it’s entirely possible I can get something in my age group. But those two girls!

For the next 10 minutes Kim and her hubby Bill are forced to hear variations of, “What if that last girl who passed me beats me out for a medal?” and “What if that girl gets third and I don’t get anything!” and “Man, if Id remembered about the medals id have made myself go fast” (like I could have).

I’m such a bore.

We listen, applaud as winners are announced. This little 12-year-old girl has won 3rd overall among females. I am trying to be polite and listen to Kim but my mind is waiting…waiting for my age category. Here it comes, 20-29.

“In first place, from Allentown, Pennsylvania..”

BUT THAT’S WHERE I’M FROM.

“Arlene Martinez!”

I’VE WON FIRST PLACE. I WON FIRST PLACE.

I hoot and holler and walk up to get my medal.
“Gold or silver,” girl asks.
“GOLD!” I tell her.

The other two girls who passed me also medal, but both are in the next age group up!!

I put it around my neck. What I will remember with greatest fondness is my walk back to the table.

I’ve never won a race before. Ever, ever, ever, ever, ever. Never. I was always athletic, but never, never had any speed. It was my least valuable asset and one I’d always admired in others. And you know, I will never be fast nor quick but I can train hard and maintain a decent pace for a short while.

So I was smiling so big, my face must have been full of such sheer happiness, that everyone was smiling and laughing and congratulating me on the way back. At least that’s what it felt like. It felt like everyone on my way back was so happy for me. I mean, they looked so happy for me. Bless them.

“Joe, look!” I say to Joe, who’s manning the breakfast counter.
“Hey, first place?” he says.
“Ya,” I tell him. “It must have been the yogurt, even though I almost threw it up!”
He laughs.

I head back to table. Kim and hubby offer congratulations, high fives, yes!

I call my boy, who asks if I won any money. I call my mom, who asks if I won any money. I call LM, my running coach, leave her elated message. I call sis. During these phone calls, at times my index finger is straight in the air in the “I’m No. 1” sign. Twice, the table next to me, full of happy, laughing people, catch me and start laughing. The second time a girl at the table jokes, “Do you need a waitress?” Embarrassing. Shameless!

Final times are posted. My time? 24:01.

And if you made it to here, you are now, to steal from Scott, of dear reader status. Cause that was way too long for a 5k race report.