Last weekend I raced my third 5K of 2017, and while my experience during the actual 3.1 miles kind of stunk, for some mysterious reason I find myself still wanting to wax poetic about it. Don’t get me wrong, the race itself was great. I appreciated the fact that it was a larger 5K and that I felt some nice camaraderie with my fellow hoofers. It was well organized, the location and course were both good. It was a well designed loop, and I appreciated not having to go out and back as a change-up to my last two races. The post-race atmosphere was also fun. My performance, however, was the lackluster piece. I finished in 20:59, which isn’t terrible, it’s just not an improvement over last month’s time, really.
Perhaps it was a bad idea to hope for a larger improve at a race dubbed the No Luck Run, but hey, I gave it my all. Yesterday I ran the No Luck Irish Run 5K, and I while won’t say I had no luck, I think I’m realizing there is no luck to be had in the 5K’s, i.e. it comes down to blood, sweat, and tears (or at least sweat and possibly some tears). My official time was 21:01, which was a 6:47 pace, and a 16 second improvement over my February race. Was I hoping to knock down my time more than I did? Sure, but realistically I know I did the best I could. These two 5K’s have played out the same way: fast first mile, second mile probably where I’d want to be, shitty third mile. My splits from my watch from yesterday’s race were 6:28, 6:44, and 7:07. Ouch. While this race felt less worse than last month, that last mile was a struggle. I did end up as second place overall (which was also second place female), so that was a nice, fun bonus.