This past Sunday I woke up at the crack of dawn, shoved a bowl of oatmeal and peanut butter into my mouth and jumped on the train to go deep into Queens. My destination: Flushing Meadows, home of the Mets and the US Open, and two Worlds Fairs. It is also home of the Queens 10K, of which I was a willing participant. Well, willing might be inaccurate. I mean, I think I wanted to do it. It seemed like a good idea two months ago when I signed up for it and handed over my money to the NY Road Runners Club. But as the day drew nearer, I started to remember my friends who had run the race in the past, recalling how painful of a race it was because historically, that day is always super hot and humid. One of the reasons I signed up because the race map looked cool. I’ve spent a lot of time in that park, and the thought of running through it, passing other park-centric landmarks with 10,ooo other people gave me the motivation I need to sign up. The problem with signing up for a 10K, or any race for that matter, is that you have to train for it. Or at least it’s strongly advised that you do. I did not. And that’s why I had night sweats the evening before the race because I thought I was surely going to die from it. The last run I had was weeks ago and it was only three miles around my beautiful neighborhood (Long Island City). And I barely got through that run. So what made me think I could handle 6.3 miles? Simple answer: Stupidity.
But my stupidity paid off, because I survived!!!! And I have a medal to prove it. And actually, the run was not as bad as I feared it would be. I actually finished with a decent time: 9:52 mile without training! Schweeet. I would be remiss if I didn’t thank my adrenaline, which totally kicked in during the race.