Long runs: Shared-track slowdowns don't have to be let-downs

OK, I goofed. When I planned my latest double-digit training run, I didn’t double-check what else might be going on along the way. I just geared up and went.

Oops.

 I’d picked a lovely trail that winds around a little lake in a nearby forest preserve. Each lap is about 2.5 miles, so I had to do several loops to make my run ration for the day. That sounded simple enough, right?

I picked out my playlist and loaded my car with salty/healthy run snacks and a cooler of chilled water. My whiz-bang plan was to have these ready and accessible throughout my whole training trip, as that’s one of the hardest things about a non-supported teens-to-30-mile run.

About an hour into this plan, I saw a van pull up to one of the park shelters. A few ladies climbed out and began setting cases of water and boxes of bananas on a picnic table. Next, they opened a box of race bibs. 

Uh-oh.

By the time I looped around again, several cars were pulling into that parking lot. Strollers were unfolding, and folks were congregating ON THE PATHWAY.

“Excuse me,” I said to one mom, as I stepped onto the wet grass to pass. No response.

“What time does the race start?” I asked another, as she backed into me.

I sighed, adjusted my earbud, and continued on my way.

By the next lap, the entire trail was blocked, as the small crowd lined up to start their 5K. There were runners, wheeled teams, jog strollers, and baby buggies. I headed for the nearby road to avoid the pack. Then I traversed the grass again to regain my place on the path.

The next time around, I encountered the race leaders. The front-runner, a mom with a tiny baby and a toddler in a jogging stroller, was flying. She called out a quick greeting before zipping by.

By now, I was halfway through my long run and sort of asleep at the wheel. I swigged my water and kept going.

Rounding a bend, I saw the rest of the race pack, making their way along the walkway that edged the baseball field.

That’s when I became inspired.

Although my knees and foot arches and other stuff already hurt, I saw children, young people, and adults giving it all they had. This wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill 5K.

• I saw a pair of runners pushing an adult man in a racing wheelchair. His grin was miles wide.
• I saw a dad with a maybe-eight-year-old boy on his shoulders. The child had braces on both legs.
• I saw a mom coaxing her reluctant runner daughter to keep going. The girl looked to be about six or seven.
• I saw a mom and dad helping their teen daughter along, each placing an arm under one of her shoulders, as she stumbled on the way.
• I saw a young man with crutches, inching his way along the path.

I found myself calling out to these already-motivated folks.

 “Way to go!”

“You’ve got this!”

 “Great job!”

“All right!”

After about 90 minutes, this special 5K was over. The van had been loaded. And the picnic shelter was empty.

My heart was racing from my own run. But it was a little fuller than it had been when I set out that morning.

Because sometimes an interruption is a pick-me-up, rather than a let-down.

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