I’ve run many 5ks in my life.  Many I ran even before I was a runner by hobby.

I remember participating in Race for the Cures in high school with my softball team each year.  The years I was more fit, the more I loved the race.  It felt good each year, though, despite those being the only time I ever ran without a coach blowing a whistle to start and stop conditioning.

Now, as a runner by choice, I revel in the “good days” when I feel invincible after finishing mileage.  There are still “bad days” when I fight to complete the  mileage and “regular days” when I have to fight through the middle, but enjoy the sweetness of the energy and accomplishment at the end.

Saturday I had hoped to run my first half marathon.  I downgraded to the 5k for a number of reasons and set a goal to finish under a certain time.  I wasn’t thinking much of the morning and was hoping just for a good, regular run.  Nothing stressful, nothing to injure myself, just a solid run.

What I had was a fantastic 5k that was more than I could have hoped for.  I felt strong, had a great run the whole race.  I was so in the zone I didn’t even notice the mileage pass and suddenly I was at the end.  I sprinted out the last stretch and happily finished :30 seconds/mile faster than the last race I completed and :30 seconds total under my goal time.  It was a feeling I hadn’t felt since finishing my first 10k in March and one that I won’t soon forget.

I’ve got one race per month scheduled through next May (excluding January) and I don’t know if I’ll have that same feeling again in any of the next races.  But, felling what I felt when I crossed the finish line with thundering strength this Saturday, THAT is why I keep running and why I can’t imagine giving this up anytime soon.

Photo my husband took after I crossed the finish line.