That’s twenty seconds shy of my one-hour goal for the Bolder Boulder yesterday. It’s a ten-kilometer run, and since I never actually go out and run I figured it was reasonable to shoot for an hour (which is a pace of around a ten-minute mile). This was my fifth time, and I’d never been “sub-sixty” before.
The run itself is an absolute riot, with all the stuff along the route through the city: grunge bands, eighty-year-old cowgirls, belly dancers, Elvis, the Blues Brothers, and thousands of people just generally cheering, throwing water, and offering beers to runners.
This year was the first time I had a stopwatch (“chronograph” if you speak Timex) and I think it really helped me know how far to push myself. I ran the first kilometer in five and a half minutes, and at that pace I wasn’t going to make the hour so I kicked it up a notch and did the second kilometer in five minutes flat. As the race wore on I’m sure I was slowing a bit, but managed to keep the pace pretty well. By the time I ran up the last grueling hill into the stadium for the big finish, I knew I had to put in a final spurt. Not easy, but I clicked off the stopwatch when I crossed the line and was elated to see the number.
Afterward, of course, my friends and I wandered the pavilion while we enjoyed our healthy snack of Cheetos and soda. Uhhh, they sure know how to feed runners!
All in all it was a hard run (good thing it’s only once a year), but I’m pleased I did it and hope to repeat the feat next year…