On Saturday I ran a 10K in support of the soccer team here in Clinton. The poor and needy soccer players need the kind of clothes they wear playing the game of European futbol. I was happy to contribute.
To most Americans, 10Ks is a mysterious, quantum measurement that cannot be compared to anything in the customary system of units and measurements. Nevertheless, I wore my Garmin Forerunner 305 to help me keep track of actual miles ran. I hit the start/stop button as I crossed the finish line and it read “6.00” miles exactly. For some reason I was expecting “6.22” miles, but who knows?
My goal was to average a “mid 7 minute pace.” Average pace? 7:32. OK, that’s something to build on. I came in third overall, which says to me, “We don’t have a lot of runners in our town.” The pace speaks for itself. Normally a time like wouldn’t get me within sight of the podium, but if only people from Clinton could go to the Olympics, I’d get a bronze.
I was disappointed, however, to learn they awarded me first place, in my age-group! That makes it sound like some kind of consolation prize for the old guy. Harumph!
All kidding aside-run in this next year, or if they do it again, in the Fall. Gotta go.