5K - 31:57

I did not walk.

That would be the first thing I would tell anyone if they inquired about my first 5k. I did not walk. Today was the big day. The day I've been training toward since the first of the year. A goal that seemed too far away to be real. A race my friends and I discussed numerous times over breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. Would it ever get here? Yes, and I did not walk.

January's bitter cold was the antithesis of outside running. I tried jogging outside a few blocks in what seemed to be a warmer February. My lungs seized up from the bitter cold; I was defeated. But today, I did not walk. After 3 months of consistent training with weights and running on a treadmill, after shaving off several pounds, after reducing my body fat by more than 5%, I ran in the 2008 Columbia St. Patrick's Day Race.

It'd be easy for me to say that the reason I did not walk was because I had worked hard for three months, pushing myself, dedicating time, energy and focus toward my goal. But to say such a thing would be minimizing the HUGE impact of all those who have been a part of this from the start. No, I'm not going to start of by giving the cliche Oscar-esque speech. This may be sappy, but if I were to single a few people out of the numerous supporters along the way -

Stephen P: Day in and day out, you reminded my of building toward my goal. You gave me tools to track my progress and inspiration to keep me on track. Seeing your progress and hearing you talk about all your race times and experiences solidified in my mind that I can, in fact, run a 5k and not die.

Rob P: When I said I wanted to finish in under 45 minutes, you laughed. When I said I wanted to finish in under 38, you scoffed. Under 35? You still were not happy. I ran a personal best 31:57 and I feel like I can do better. Thanks for helping me change my mindset.

Mark A: Day of the race. I start out a little overzealous, maybe a bit too confident in my abilities. Out of the gate fast, but I'm tired at the quarter mile. My pace slows. I'm jogging. People are passing me. Failure begins to creep into my brain. I hear a familiar voice from behind. You ran beside me. I wanted to stop and walk on at least 4 occasions. I just wanted to catch my breath! But no. You wouldn't let me. You knew I would finish disappointed would I have stopped to walk. You ensured my months of training ended up a success on race day. You allow me to close this blog post with a phrase that has boosted my confidence in my abilities more than anything in recent memory.

I did not walk.