Flashback

"Picture it: Sicily, 1922." (Any Golden Girls fans in the house??)

Ok, let's not flashback that far.

Last weekend's Fruitport Old Fashioned Days 10k was a hot mess of a race for me. I failed to read the fine print on the 2013 FOFD registration and so was not aware that the event was held on an open course. As in a winding country road, open to traffic going 55 mph, 9:30am on Memorial Day weekend (read: trucks hauling boat trailers, overzealous yard salers, funeral procession). Also, there were a grand total of 46 runners in the 10k, so yeah. The drivers couldn't even tell it was a race. I felt like I had a "hit me" sign on my back and ran stiff, nervous and slow due to my fear of dying. Oh and still being out of shape. I finally finished, a personal slowest in the 10k, 2nd to last. The race finishes on the Fruitport High School track. With everyone watching, waiting for the last finisher so the awards ceremony to begin. The 5k winner had been finished for an hour!

All of this brought back memories of my origins as a runner. As in the first time I was a runner.  Now that we've got that out of the way, let's go back, kiddos. Back to the scary and wonderful place called the 90s.

In this blog I've marked myself as "starting to run" in the Spring of 2012. But in reality, I started to run nearly 20 years before (SERIOUSLY?!? 20 YEARS?) on the junior high track team. My previous sports experience was spotty: I played softball for two years in elementary school with a singular goal - wait for the walk. 8 year-olds aren't good pitchers. Oh and pray no one hit the ball to me. So 2 goals. I spent 2 years on the basketball team in 5th and 6th grade, never to score a single point. In the fall of 7th grade I inexplicably joined cheerleading. Mostly, that kept me from having to join the basketball team. So once spring rolled around I found track. All I had to do was run in a circle. Preferably fast. No coordination, no catching, no clapping. Perfect!

Oh yeah, I was a cheerleader. Fall 1992.

As with most slow, athletically challenged runners, I was pegged as a distance runner, destined to run the 1 and 2 mile races. The problem with these races is that as I got older and the skill differential became more pronounced between "athletes," I found myself frequently in danger of getting lapped by the fast girls. Ugh. The horror. My primary goal as a high school track runner was to not be last and not get lapped in the 2 mile (8 laps).

10th Grade track, Spring 1996. Note the sweet digital watch and WWJD bracelet. 

This isn't a sad story of what a bad runner I was in junior high and high school. I actually found a groove - and it came in the form of Cross Country. Our high school hadn't had a XC team in 10 years, but the track coach felt we had a talented distance women's track team and should start a XC team again. It started in the fall of my sophomore year with about 7 girls and a new coach (our track coach was a teacher and XC coach at another high school), uniforms and snacks subsidized by a sponsor and cheering section provided by our mothers. Cross country is a beautiful sport for a slow distance runner, especially compared to track. We ran in the woods, on golf courses, in state parks, around schools and colleges, and in all weather and all terrain. Just an example - in those days Muskegon High School ran their course at Snug Harbor. Running up (what seemed like) vertical hills, down sand dunes, over tree roots, tripping and falling over said tree roots... it was all an adventure.

Junior year Cross Country, Fall 1996

With a small team, I was able to earn a varsity letter, actually SCORE in meets (unlike my basketball and track experiences) and experience success. I ran 5ks in the summer, and considered myself a "real runner." It inspired my love of running and exercising outdoors. And you don't get lapped.

Fruitport Old Fashioned Days 2013