I won a trophy! See, see how shiny it is!

Yep, I tied for third in my age bracket with Laurette from my gym, my unindicted co-conspirator pictured on the left there. We ran the race together. She pulled me over a bad patch at mile three when I got a stitch in my side and I got her over a bad patch at mile five when her right leg started to seize up, so we agreed that we'd cross the finish line together.

Just let me gloat over my wonderful trophy. Did you see how shiny it is? Did you? Huh? HUH?

Let us pretend for a few more seconds that I actually have an iota of athletic ability. Let me hold close to my heart the illusion that that trophy represents anything other than the fact that very few women between the ages of 50 and 59 are stupid enough to endure 10K races.

Living a rich inner life is highly under-rated, you know.

Oh, alright, here's the reality:

The 26th Annual Milk Run was won by a man my age who ran the whole 10K (6.2 miles) in 36 minutes and a few seconds.

Wait, it gets worse.

When he finished the race he ran back to the bridge (2.8 miles) and then ran back uphill into Enosburg Falls AGAIN with some friends of his, encouraging them to better their race times. For those of you keeping track, this man ran a total of 11.8 miles, the first bit in 6 minute miles and the second bit in eight minute miles.

It goes without saying that this man is a Freak of Nature, right?

It took me 72 minutes and 19 seconds to cover the 10K. This is roughly 12 minute miles. In other words, it took me twice as long to cover the course as it took the winner and I don't even have the consolation of telling myself that the winner was a zygote Because The Freaking Winner Was My Age.

Wait, it gets worse.

The absolute lowest moment?

A half mile from the end of the race, an eight-year-old boy passed me.

Eight. Years. Old.

Blew my doors off. Crushed me.

I so wish I was joking about this, but I am not.

But does he have a shiny trophy? Does he? Huh? HUH?

I THINK NOT!

We'll simply ignore the fact that my lovely, shiny trophy is basically a door prize, won because very few women my age are stupid enough to try to run 10K.

.:cough:.

Well, at least I finished the race. Before it I had never been able to break 5.5 miles, so just covering the 6.2 miles is something. From watching the winner I can see that if I hope to bring my time down I have to get myself to the point where I can run ten miles easily.

In other words, it's back to the drawing board. Ahead of me are more hours of training as I try to push my aged and protesting carcass towards crossing that finish line faster next year. Oh yes, There Will Be A Next Year. And next year I hope to post a time that is infinitely more respectable.

But let's not think about that. No, let's focus on my trophy. Did I mention that it's lovely, it's shiny and it's MINE?

Well, technically, half mine.

Until I figure out a way to bump off Laurette.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 459.16 miles.
Oh man. This is going to be hard
Goal for 2004: 1,000 miles - 1609 kilometers