The finish line!
Before the race....we are SWISS RUNNERS!
Happy and sweaty after 5.5k
Besides the obvious differences, like not being able to understand anything being announced, or the perilous, wonderous feeling of bumpy cobblestone underneath my brand new purple asics running shoes, I wasn't sure what to expect from my first 5.5K in a foreign country. Arriving on saturday afternoon, I made my way to the Baslerstadtlauf (after much contemplation have decided that this means Basel State Run) registration. Arriving in the Munsterplatz (cathedral square), there were all the normal trappings of any respectable race (giant Adidas blow up start gates, sponsor posters, gear tents), yet in Basel they contrasted with centuries old gothic architecture, stained glass, and tudor style 15th century homes. Race registration proceeded slowly yet efficiently (yay Swiss-Germans), and in no time I had my number bibs, safety pins, and nifty ear warming head bands with the name of the race.
A few hours later, after checking into the hostel on the way 0ther side of town, I found myself nervously jogging and stretching near the starting line. Waiting for my race to begin, I watched hundreds of gangly little girls take off sprinting, pony tails flying straight back, forming right angles with the ground from their vibrant gusto, speed and energy. This was truly a breath of fresh air, considering that in Geneva, I've only ever seen one group of little girls' practicing soccer, and telling other Swiss that I played since I was 5 results in the translated "Oh la la, you must be very masculine!" I breathed in the energy and excitement lingering in the air, stretched the final kinks out of my legs, and got ready to represent the Mitten in my (ok in KC's, but it's on loan) throw back Bad-Boys Piston's shirt. After the 3-2-1 countdown in German, which I won't even attempt to spell phonetically, I took off....and by took off I mean got stuck shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the pack. Once the crowd thinned out a bit, the run started off downhill, through the Marktplatz street where the finish would eventually be. There were thousands of people lining the streets, cheering "Hopp, hopp, hopp," with the occasional "allllllez," thrown in after. The course then started a climb through the city's historic old town, leveled out over a long bridge crossing the Rhine river, then back down again through the Marktplatz square. When studying the course map it looked like one big loop....but I completely lack any German literary skills, and therefore wasn't able to pick out the part which surely had said it would a two lap course. As I commenced the descent to the street we had taken off from, the dreadful "oh my God I have a whole other lap to go" feeling set in, but thankfully not for long.
Halfway across the bridge my legs started burning and getting very heavy, but I knew that once I had crossed it would be, literally, all downhill from here. Starting the descent to the finish line, I stuck out my chest and chin, pumped my arms, and let gravity and the cheers of HOPP, HOPP! do their work (all the while praying my feet would stay the course on those wobbly cobbles of stone). Happily my feet did not betray me, and I passed at least 10 people coming into the finish, and hit the stop button on my watch right as the race officials passed their paddle sensor over my bib to get my official race time. Instead of chip timing, where the plastic timing chips are connected to your shoelace, they have wires in all the race bibs which they scan as you come through the finish. I'm still debating which I prefer, having someone bending down ripping the chip off your shoe, making them a potential prime puke target, or nearly being socked in the stomach/boob with a bib sensor paddle. I continued through the finish to receive a finishers medal, a shoe bag, and a water bottle filled with some overly sugar laden drink that I promptly spit out, "fed to the street" as Julie, my running partner in crime would say (you'd think with the hundreds of drinkable fountains all over the city they would provide a little H20 but....). Leaving the race quarters, I was only mildly disappointed that there were no free bananas or bagels being handed out, as these would have made the perfect travelling breakfast/lunch/dinner and snack.
After the race, I wandered around looking for my friends in a loopy, happy, post-race daze. I felt like an excited little kid who had just got off her first rollercoaster, babbling with excitement about how fun it was. My time ended up as 28:34. In the past, I would have balked and berated myself for being too slow/too fat/too lazy, or any assortment of self disparaging comments about my "dismal" performance. And while certainly not my all-time 5K PR of 21:10, I'm taking my 28:34 and running with it, as a good baseline for a new PR. The PR of a woman who doesn't boggle the numbers of caloric mental arithmetic during the race, thinking about how many calories will be burned versus how many she has already consumed for the day. A time that is my personal best, and a self that is striving to be my personal best.... enjoying running for how it makes my mind and body feel, enjoying food for nourishment and energy, which lets me do all that I want to do, and enjoying my life that is rich and full, where the former two play a supporting role to the sweetness of relationships and a fulfilled, contented everyday existence.
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