The Chris Moeller Archives

My Mascara Runs Faster Than You - by Aaron Moeller

The 2007 Marion Arts Festival 5K is history and I’m proud to say I walked away from the wreckage unscathed.

It was a cool morning – perfect for running, really – with 700-plus runners in attendance. Unfortunately, I was exhausted before the race even started because I waited until last night to start my training. I was up until 3 a.m. reading back issues of Runner’s World magazine, which in retrospect was poor strategy. Then again, I hadn’t run in a race since the tenth grade and having fallen behind in my subscription, I wanted to make sure I hadn’t missed any groundbreaking running strategies that have come about in the intervening sixteen years. Turns out I did: A person really should do some running in the three weeks leading up to a race.

Before the race, I picked out some competitors with particularly shiny shoes and told myself I would try to keep pace with them. I didn’t want to go toe-to-toe with anyone who has worn out their shoes, like Mr. Big Shot Running Star and long-time pal Rob Semelroth, who runs these damn 5K races like they’re sprints. I wasn’t exactly nervous – it’s normal to piss yourself before a race, right? – but I did feel a twinge of "what the hell did I get myself into" as a lady sang the National Anthem and everyone faced a different direction in search of a flag.

At the starting line, Rob takes a spot at the front of the pack. And stays there throughout the competition. I began the race about 15 feet behind him, still pretty close to the front of the group. In retrospect, it messed heavily with my competitive edge in the first mile of the race, as probably about 200 people passed me in the first five minutes alone. Still, I felt pretty good through the first stretch.

I hit the first mile marker at about eight minutes, a decent pace which would have left me just a couple minutes off some of my high school cross country times. At this point, I wondered if Rob was already finishing the race, which immediately depressed me. For the sake of my psyche I put Rob out of my mind. He’s the wrong guy to be comparing yourself with.

Then I settled into a steady pace. The course was ideal, comprised of basically two straightaways, plus it was nice and flat. I tried to push myself a little faster than my usual workout pace, thinking if I started to enjoy the race that probably meant I wasn’t going fast enough. I felt pretty good, even as I got passed by a couple of fifty-year-old women and even a few ten-year-old kids and people running with their dogs. About the only thing that depressed me is when a young mother passed me while pushing a three-year-old in a stroller. At the two-mile marker, a college-aged girl passed me wearing a pink t-shirt. The back of her t-shirt contained the phrase "My mascara runs faster than you." Until being distracted by her ass, this taunting message bothered me too.

Entering the final half-mile, I saw Rob on the sidelines, walking back, cooling down. (He placed fourth.) This was a revelation because at this point it was nice to be assured there was a finish line. I lengthened my stride and surprised myself by having a little kick in the final 100 yards. For the first time in the race I found myself passing more than one person at a time. I crossed the finish line at just over 27 minutes, about dead center in the middle of the pack, but a full six minutes off my best high school times.

Overall, I was pleased and my various personal accomplishments were many: I finished only ten minutes behind Rob. I ran a consistent race, with pretty even splits. I was exhausted at the end, knowing I left nothing out on the track. Plus: I took a nap afterward and awoke to no soreness or stiffness. I didn’t vomit at the finish line, unlike the guy who finished just ahead of me. And I still maintained all my dignity because I didn’t race in those tiny, slit-at-the-side shorts – like all the guys who were in the top twenty.

posted by Anonymous @ 5:27 PM