Thursday, I attacked the Flying Feather Four Miler and dominated. Well, my form of dominated. A beautiful day for a run through a local metropark. A Thanksgiving 4 miler with 3,999 of my closest friends. However, before I hit the mile mark my Garmin died.
I should stop and point out that I am a Garmin addict. I love knowing all the stats of my run. Even better when I use the heart rate monitor.
Back to the race, Garmin died and I didn’t see the first mile marker. Both of these things ended up being a blessing. By the time I was cursing getting up early to run, I hit mile 2. Half way home. Time to get serious. By the half way point most of the walkers who lined up too close to the start had been picked off.
The final mile was down hill. That is not my favorite way to end a race. I could see the finish for a mile. It messes with my head.
The clock time said about 50 minutes when I crossed, but it took a while to get to the start. I had to wait until the official chip time was posted. But, without even seeing the time, the race felt good. My first race since the Jingle Bell Run last December. My first post-baby race.
Oh, did I mention the wine? All of-age finishers get a bottle of wine.
The official time was 44:10. That is about an 11:03 pace and faster than I have run in a couple years.
Wine is a powerful incentive.