Pride Run

Since I'll do (almost) anything for either free food or a free t-shirt, these races are the carrot to this here blog's I-don't-want-to-slack-off-and-embarrass-myself stick. While the $18 entry fee always goes to a good cause and is a no brainer weighed against the loot (which included a great shirt this time, by the way), some of them I find myself thrilled to support and quite energized by.

The Pride Run, in its 29th year, is one of these. It raised money for SAGE, an organization that provides services to and advocates on behalf of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender seniors, many of whom face discrimination in the elder care context or fail to seek out those services out of fear of discrimination, and who may not have traditional social safety nets to advocate or care for them.  A great cause for a need that is obviously when you think about it, but I hadn't really thought through.

Of course, the national anthem is also energizing when sung by Lady Peppermint, an apparently famous drag queen with a jazzy rendition. After the gun, I walked slowly for about four minutes to get to the starting line, and then jogged/walked for the next almost five through the too-narrow start of the course. I could either push and weave or just go with the flow, and since nobody cares how I place, I decided to slow it down a bit and just try to enjoy the experience.

I felt pretty good the whole way through. I think it was a combination of the frequent water stations (during which I drank half a cup and poured two down my body), the good warm-up I got jogging to the start on the southwest end of the park, and little bit later start at 9 (relatives and friends of newborn chick, did you hear that? late start at 9am!). I also found a sweet spot for a mile and a half in the middle, where I found myself well behind much faster runners but ahead of those I'd passed. I'd only ever experienced that on the freeway.

The runners were very supportive, cheering each other on and slowing down when necessary to ask if the overheating heavy-breathers were doing okay and to give some you-can-do-it-just-breathe-slowly-and-regularly-you're-doing-great!s. Two cheerleaders in particular entertained me, an elderly man who believed in tough love, and a well-meaning liar. Mr. Tough Love stood right after the second water station and yelled to us all "Pick. It. Up! This is NOT a picnic. Plenty of time to drink once you finish!" About half a mile out from the finish, Mr. Fib, with a smile, cheered "Looking great folks, almost there! Just 400 meters!" I loved him for about 300, realized he lied, hated him for another 300, and then loved him again when I realized he got me quickly to the finish.

As the cheering got louder, I picked up my pace, and as I picked up my pace, they started yelling encouragement at me. It felt great to finish strong, and greater to see that the post-race snack was pretzels and a BIG Stick popsicle! My time was 51:25.

I asked a random stranger to take a picture of me with my cell phone, "you know, for the parents," is I think what I said, because I was sweating and it seemed like a strange and touristy request and the blog thing is a longer story. He kept making me move to just the 'right' spot, took the picture, handed it back, pointed out that he framed me perfectly in between the flags, and said "for the parents, good for you."