5Ks and Berry Pickings

This past weekend I spent with my great aunt Ethelyn. Friday night I went down to Senatobia for the annual 5 Star City 5K race. Two years ago at this race the lack of course monitors caused Mike to run an extra mile loop, finishing about 15 places back from his deserved second overall. I realized my mistake about 50 yards past the last turn to the finish, and watched Mike run off into the sunset as I made my way to the chute. Last year the course was slightly different, with more directional signs, but apparently my choice in pre-race meals and lack of sufficient bathroom time led me to take a quick break about 2 1/4 miles into it. Luckily the field was so sparse that I was not caught in the act. This year, in effort to ward off any urge for a potty break, I ran the entire course beforehand (map in hand, making sure I knew the route), and even did some strides. I made three trips to the restroom pre-race, surely giving myself more than enough opportunity.

After the usual pre-race announcements and the starter's offical "GO," I watched as two young girls sprinted into the lead, forcing my adrenaline to spike and my heart rate to jump. I know I shouldn't be worried about girls in soffe shorts with "LOVE" printed across the butt, but for some reason, I still was. Patience, patience. Sure enough, the fastest sprinter I caught within 200 meters of the start, when she slowed to almost a walk. The other girl paced herself a little better and didn't slow until the first big uphill at 1/3 mile. With that taken care of, all I had to worry about was warding off the bathroom break. I kept my eyes on Harry the whole time, zoning out while watching him run steadily 200 yards in front of me. As I approached the baseball field which we would make a large loop around, I thought it was my imagination that caused the feelings of stomach rumblings. This was the spot last year, where the inevitable happened. As I made my way to the backside of the field, I was sure it wasn't just my imagination anymore. Like some Pavlovian effect, I was desperate to squat next to that same tree that I had used for cover last year. A quick look behind me showed that Ben was only 20 seconds back. This would never work. I must spare him (and myself) the embarrassment of seeing my bare behind crouched down here in the grass. It's only another 3/4 of a mile. I can make it, I can make it, I can make it...

Finally FINALLY the finish line came into view up the last long hill. All I could think about was the mortifying picture of some man finishing some marathon having obviously NOT stopped when he should have. I crossed the finish line, grabbed my card, ignored the water lady, threw my card into the hands of the confused card sorter lady, and kept on running straight to the bathroom. I ended up running very even mile splits and maybe even speeding up that last mile. If that's what it takes to run a PR... er, well then, I don't ever need a new one.

The next morning Ethelyn took me out to the local blueberry farm where you can pick your own berries. We got a nice crop of about a gallon. Being the blueberry snobs that we now are, we found them to be smaller than we liked, so we headed up to another farm that boasted 4000 bushes. Another gallon later, it was hot and we were hungry (for something other than blueberries-- pick one, eat one, pick one...), so we headed home. I've had blueberries on my oatmeal, in smoothies, plain of course, in yogurt, in blueberry muffins, and I'll be eating them for days to come! They're good for your memory too, as I recall. :)

I had to take pictures of our efforts:

And just to show how big these things are (I have smallish hands, but still, these are huge!):