Big 12 5K

In February, I asked my dad and my step-mom to come to my third race of 2014, The Big 12 5K. You see, my dad and step-mom weren't in my life from age nine to eighteen. Because of my parents' less than amicable divorce, they missed a lot of awards ceremonies, dances, plays, parent teacher conferences, and even my high school graduation. I felt like them coming to one of my races would be an opportunity for us to make up for some of those lost moments. Something within me wanted them to see me accomplish something big. I wanted them to see me cross that finish line.

Weather conditions on race morning were idyllic with temperatures in the 50s and the sun was shining bright. I met my friend and race buddy Sarah at her apartment near the Power and Light District and, decked out in our KU and K-State gear, we walked briskly to the Sprint Center against a fairly strong wind. We managed to find my parents in the crowd and took some pictures. It felt really great to have them there, and they too were festively dressed in KU and K-State colors. They wished me luck and Dad and said he'd be waiting on the east side of the finish line and to look for his white boating hat.

I found my friends Laura and Evelyn, and we lined up in the starting shoot. Laura and I agreed to run together, and once we crossed the starting line we fell into a pretty quick pace. I spotted a cute KU fan in front of us and pointed him out to Laura with a wink. "I'm following him!" I said to her. I couldn't hear what she said over my headphones, but she laughed at me and shook her head.

We managed a pace of 9:28 on the first mile down Oak and over to Grand Blvd, which had me worried that I would run out of energy on the last mile. We headed past Crown Center, and I waved at the cars stopped at stoplights as we passed Union Station and headed up West Pershing over the bridge feeling pretty good.

I was breathing pretty hard as we hit mile two, and I was shocked that we'd managed a 9:23 mile. We soared passed Manny's Mexican Restaurant and trekked up Broadway as I thought about the large meal I was going to gorge myself on there after the race. I also thought about harming the person who'd mapped out this race course. They had lulled us into a false sense of security early on only to force us uphill the entire last half of the race.

At the two and a half mile mark, we still had a 9:35 pace, but that all changed quickly as we turned left to run up Wyandotte Street. It was steep and seemed to go on forever. I remember thinking it was the longest hill in all the world. At one point I barely felt like I was moving forward. I looked to my left at Laura, and she was doing her best to keep going. "We can't stop!" I thought to myself. "We must keep going!" I felt like I was going to collapse, but I forced my legs to keep moving. I just had to make it to the corner. I could see ahead of me that once I made it to the next corner, the course turned right and went downhill. People were stopping to walk. I wouldn't be one of them. I finally crested the hill and thanked God for the decrease in elevation. That last half mile was 11:09, but we made it though and didn't stop.

As I turned the last corner on the course, the finish line came into view. Usually at this point in the race I feel a surge of energy and sprint the last few hundred yards across the finish line, but I had no energy left. It was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other. As I neared the end, I looked to the right side of the course, searching for my dad's white boating hat. My eyes found him with a big smile on his face, camera in hand taking pictures as I passed by. I couldn't help but smile. I found just enough energy to run ahead of Laura and cross the finish line. She just laughed at me, and we high-fived.

"I don't think I would have kept going on that last hill if I'd been by myself," she said.

"I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have run that fast if I'd been by myself," I replied.

My official time was 30:40.1, and with an overall pace of 9:52, it was a personal best for me. The fact that my parents were there to see it made it that much sweeter.

Originally, I mused that this race taught me that life is a series of downhill and uphill battles, and that you should rest as much as you can in the downhills so you have the energy to power to the top of the next uphill. But writing this just now, I think the lesson is something else entirely. I think the lesson is that we are less likely to give up and more likely to push ourselves harder when we aren't running the race of life by ourselves.

Me, Dad, Janean

Me and Laura

Me and Sarah

Photo credit to Dad. Almost done!