Race (?) report: Girls on the Run 5K

I experienced two personal firsts at the Girls on the Run 5K last Friday.

First, obviously, it was my inaugural time helping out with the program, and it is every bit as impressive —maybe even more impressive — than one might expect.

The party was in full swing when I arrived at Raccoon River Park: a DJ blasting tunes (appropriately, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"); face painting and glitter hairspray; and coordinated funky headbands and tall socks, at least in "my" school's case.

There were school and running chants, and the head coach of my friend's team ran a warmup drill of jumping jacks, tae bo moves, stars and clapping — and as silly as I'm sure I looked, I thought it was hilarious.

With all this and the lovely weather, it would've been hard not to catch the spirit of the event.

Enthusiasm during the actual run seemed fairly high, too. Of course there were a few strugglers, but their buddies and the spectators didn't let them sulk or fall behind too much.

It really was cool to see not just the girls' accomplishments, but also the amount of time and energy that the adults put into getting them there. Warm and fuzzy feelings all around!

Second, less obviously, it was my first brick. I toyed with the idea of driving to Raccoon River, either from work or from my apartment after I'd biked back from work, don't get me wrong.

The spirit of Bike Month ultimately won out — plus the realization that it really wouldn't take that much longer to bike versus drive, with the time spent getting to the garage and dealing with rush-hour traffic.

It wasn't really a brick, in the truest sense of the term, because at least a half-hour lapsed between my arrival and the start of the run. And the run was definitely an easy shuffle.

But hey, if the book club members were impressed that I rode eight miles to a 5K, then hopped back on to get to dinner, I'll go ahead and pat myself on the back. I did end up feeling it the next day, I think, so it counts as far as I'm concerned

Upcoming race: Girls on the Run 5K

It turns out that this weekend is Noncompetitive Charity 5K Weekend for me.

Tomorrow is my beloved Woofin' It 5K, and tonight, as I learned just two days ago, is the local Girls on the Run chapter's 5K.

This came about through book club. Back in April, one member mentioned she'd been coaching Girls on the Run and might need a few adult runners to help out at the final event — she'd check with other leaders and let us know.

I never heard anything, so I assumed they had enough adults. Actually, they didn't, and that information didn't make its way to my book buddy until this past Wednesday.

Fortunately, my boss was able to adjust my work schedule just a little bit, so I could then make good on my weeks-ago offer to accompany a young runner.

My understanding is, all I need to do is encourage my buddy to keep running and not walk. Shouldn't be too hard, unless I'm matched with a future track star who leaves me in her dust.

I also intend to appreciate Raccoon River Park, where I haven't been since my epic 5K last fall, and which should be springlike enough to make me believe winter is over.

And it'll be a chance for me to participate in, as well as observe, the running community's incredible supportiveness.

As I was either biking or running recently — I can't remember which — I found myself thinking about my experiences as a relative n00b in both areas.

Bicyclists seem happy to share their sport, but something about runners has always put me more at ease, regardless of my skill and knowledge gap.

Maybe it's that most of us agree running is harder, so runners have to go the extra mile (ha!) to welcome newcomers.

Or maybe it's because one's body is easier to understand than one's bicycle, if you're not mechanically inclined. And it could also be that I entered running with so little knowledge that being clueless wasn't embarrassing — it was expected.

Regardless: I'll be paying the Rockford, Ill., running crew's good deeds from 2009 to present forward tonight.

What I'll miss about running in West Des Moines

I mentioned in an offhand way a few posts ago that I would be moving soon.

Soon came sooner than I thought: By Thanksgiving, I'll be out of my West Des Moines apartment and living in Des Moines proper.

There are, of course, many aspects of the new apartment that I'm excited about (otherwise I would've just renewed here), but, duh, one of them is fresh running scenery.

At the same time, I'll miss certain things about my current place, some of them related to running routes. I've been planning a few runs (not all of them) with the intention of hitting some spots I likely won't return to very soon.

The top five features of West Des Moines running that I'll miss:

5. Proximity to Raccoon River Park: I didn't even go there to run very often, but its gravel trail and heavy tree cover reminded me of a beloved trail back in my hometown (which in fact I want my ashes scattered along, some day far in the future).

It's where I set two 5K personal records at the past two Remembrance Runs, and it's also where I first went running with fellow "Scoop Chasers" Regina, Zach and Emily — setting the tone for a year of meeting up to run or bike.

4. Nearby restaurants: I frequently run past Biaggi's, Culver's, Taco John's, Arby's and a few other fast-food joints, and they all put out heavenly smells. Sometimes it's a cruel taunt, but mostly I just enjoy another reason to think about food.

3. The Ashworth Road overpass over Interstate 35: I just really like this overpass. I'm not sure whether it's because of the vines growing over the chain-link covering, or whether it's because I often cross it after coming up a long incline.

2. The variety of trails in all directions: I'm within a mile of the Jordan Creek Trail, within about 1.5 miles of the Clive Greenbelt Trail and at most seven miles from the Raccoon River Valley Trail. That doesn't even include the minitrails around the city.

Best of all — they're not all in the same direction, so I could pick based on where the wind was coming from. Or where I wanted to deal with hills.

1. Its wide, smooth, continuous sidewalks: In the part of the city where I live, West Des Moines' sidewalks are twice as wide as my new neighborhood's are; almost every street has nonstop sidewalk; and nearly every one is either smooth or along a road so quiet that I can just hop into the street.

Coming next week, to ward off any nostalgia as move-out approaches: what I'm ready to say goodbye to.

Race report: I'm still rocking the Remembrance Run 5K

For the second time in as many years, I set a 5K personal record at the Iowa Remembrance Run.

Actually, "set" is an understatement. Smashed, shattered, destroyed ... those are all better words: My chip time was 24:09 (a 7:47 pace), compared with my old 5K PR of 25:30.

While the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick was an ugly PR, the Remembrance Run was a thing of beauty. I did a slow warmup jog before the opening ceremonies, found my pace right away AND kept it (a range of three seconds!), fought off the urge to walk at mile 2.75 and subsequently placed in the top 10 women (No. 7!).

All but one of these accomplishments are thanks to the tempo runs in my half marathon training plan. Hal, I'm virtually high-fiving and fist-bumping you.

The one that I can't thank Hal for? Not walking at mile 2.75.

I may or may not have gotten cocky after all those successful tempo runs, and I may or may not have told my gentleman friend that I thought I could beat him.

And then on Saturday, the day before the race, he notched a 5:45 mile at the Brew Mile ... so I definitely got nervous.

We took a moment's pause from talking smack to each other, and I even dropped my nervous grimace. Fortunately I ran better than I photographed that day.

We started out together, but as we wove through the crowds, I lost sight of him and hoped that meant I was ahead of him, not choking on his dust. But without knowledge either way, when I hit the final stretch — in full sunshine — I absolutely could not allow myself to walk.

Thank God I didn't. Cory would've overtaken me. Instead, I crossed at 24:09, and by the time I'd gotten my medal, returned my chip and walked to the sidelines, he'd finished.

Even if I hadn't been able to walk the walk, it would've been a lovely day. We cheered on and lunched with fellow runners Sharyn, Laryssa, Pam and Regina; it was Sharyn's first race ever, and like me, Regina bested her Friendly Sons of St. Patrick time.

Check out those sweet medals! From left: Cory, me, Pam, Regina, Sharyn and Laryssa.

Like Van Halen says, though, "the more you get, the more you want," and I eventually came down from the post-race high ... but that's fodder for another post, and it doesn't take away from the fact that both Remembrance Runs I've done would have been wonderful regardless of my performance.

Each time, I've come away just so impressed at the work the race organizers put in at this one, compared with an annual 5K I used to do back in Rockford. No wonder I used to be so lukewarm about 5Ks.

The prairie knows

I went back to Rockton, Ill., last weekend, and among the many pleasures of going home is the chance to run old routes that have become unfamiliar after months away.

The Sugar River forest preserves were on my radar, but after traversing the Midwest, my motivation to hop back in the car was fairly low. Our neighbors' prairie path, which they've graciously invited us to use, was far more tempting.

Turns out it was probably best that this urbanite didn't hit the true trails. Nature seemed to sense that a softie was there, ready to be taunted.

If these scratches look insignificant, it's because I took the photo Wednesday, a few days after my Sunday run.

My recent run at Raccoon River Park had reminded me of how lovely it is to run among trees; my runs around West Des Moines' ponds had me trained to dodge animal droppings.

But all this time in the city made me forget how much ducking and weaving one must do in the real wilderness, where prickly plants line narrow walkways.

A little blood did bubble up, and after the stinging stopped, the itching started — the outdoors used to occasionally give me little patches of irritation back in northern Illinois, something I'd nearly forgotten about until the bumps popped up again Sunday.

That's OK. Clearly I survived. I didn't abandon the run, either. I'll just think of it as a warning or preview for the next trail run I do ... especially if that one is the Sycamore 8.

Five-year anniversary run

As far as I know, yesterday wasn't the exact anniversary of anything important in my life.

But as I ran around Raccoon River Park, the mix of fall and summer weather, plus the forested gravel trail, I kept reminiscing about similar places I used to run — the Stone Bridge Trail in Roscoe, Ill.; Schmeekle Reserve in Stevens Point, Wis.

I rode that wave of nostalgia all the way back to 2008. That fall, I went on my first non-rain-related run since high school.

I didn't get hooked on it until spring 2009. But if I hadn't, one fall evening, for absolutely no reason at all, seen how far I could jog around my neighborhood until I got exhausted (not very far), there would've been no springtime running obsession.

So I guess it's the equivalent of first-date anniversary versus wedding anniversary, and as I have married friends who celebrate both of those milestones (and why not?), I think I'm well within my rights to declare my first five-year running anniversary.

I am also exercising a little bit of poetic license, because the run during which I thought "huh, it's been about five years now, give or take a month" was a rousing success.

Spurred by some gentle teasing, I decided to at least run the 10K my training schedule told me that I should do this weekend in a race. Going fast wasn't necessarily my intention, but it happened.

Five years after I couldn't even run half a mile, I ran 6.2 miles at an 8:25 pace. The later miles were a little bit of a struggle, for sure, but I have a hunch that they still felt better than that first quarter-mile in fall 2008.

(Which, by the way, was definitely uphill. Raccoon River, on the other hand, is beautifully flat.)

It's hard for me to say what I'm prouder of: that I've come so far with running, or that I've stuck with it through the bumps.

It's also hard for me, as an inherently unathletic person and as someone self-conscious about bragging, to acknowledge how I got to this point.

For all the credit I jokingly give to beer and pork (which I consume more now than ever), or the pointing at perfect weather and terrains, this is actually because I'm putting in the effort. Discipline and persistence is paying off.

The hardest half-mile

After probably a month of talking about it, we were finally doing it: Three friends and I had met at Raccoon River Park last Sunday to do an easy 5Kish loop.

The sun had been shining earlier; temperatures had been well above freezing; the route was flat as a pancake. It was a perfect time and place to inaugurate our running club.

Except that we missed the window of faux-spring weather. And the wind was gusting at least 20 mph at times. And as we deliberately set out into the wind — to get it over with, pre-sweat and pre-fatigue — our skin began to prickle: rain, or snow or sleet.

We hadn't reached a half-mile yet, and we were tiptoeing around puddles that had somehow survived the day's onslaught of drying wind, while barely surviving it ourselves.

There was no conversation, only grimaces. Maybe the friend who'd refused to join us had been the smart one.

I waited for someone to say it: "Forget it. Let's go home."

As we rounded the corner that eased the wind's ferocity, we began to speak again, but not of quitting. Our feet splashed and squished through the gravel that hadn't drained, but no one complained seriously. (OK, maybe I did.)

We'd lived through that first, horrible half-mile. We paired off by pace. We dealt with runny noses in our individual fashions (sleeves, snot rockets, Kleenex tucked into sports bras).

And back in the parking lot, we joked about doing it again "in nice weather" next Sunday.

I think we made it official: We're a running club.