This past weekend, I won my first 10k race. It's funny, really, since I've never even run one before. Truth be told, I still haven't.
You see, it was all a big, fat mistake.
It all started when I registered for the Weston Pancreatic Cancer Run/Walk. Apparently, when you sign up for a 10k but decide at the last minute to do the 5k version instead, you have to tell someone. These running events should really come with a handbook. I thought I made pretty good time, keeping up a 50/50 balance of walking and running. I even left my friends behind for the second half. However, when I leisurely strolled across the finish line (just behind the 1st place runner of the 10k, by the way), I never thought anyone would believe I was actually leading the pack.
Another big, fat mistake.
I guess they only pay attention to your number and where you are in the technical paperwork of runners. No one is actually looking to say, "But wait. She's not even out of breath. Surely she didn't complete an entire 10k." God knows my friends were saying it, wasn't anyone listening?
Despite the fun I had teasing my friends who actually DID run the 10k that they really needed to step up their training, I felt bad that I robbed someone of their glory. Here I was, supposedly doing something good to raise money for charity, and I managed to lie, cheat and steal in one fell swoop. Luckily, it was all corrected in time and the real winner was named in the paper, as it should be. (I was actually a little disappointed. I planned to frame it, had it been published.)
My sister's reaction to all this? "I'm not surprised. I actually thought if you were running in a race, the four horsemen of the Apocalypse would show up. So this was better than I expected."
She has a point. And on the bright side, we had more runners this year than we've ever had before at the annual Lewis & Clark run. When all donations are in, we will have raised somewhere close to $6,000.
Whatever the outcome of the race, it's good to know that people are behind me in the fight against pancreatic cancer. Because God knows there weren't many behind me in the race.
I mean, seriously. A 10k?