I've always marveled at
the parallels that the sport of running draws across the broad spectrum of
humanity. Yesterday I read about an 80 year old man who ran a 3:15 marathon and
the day before yesterday I came across an article about a woman who, apparently
oblivious to traditional pre-birthing methods, ran the Chicago Marathon while 9
months pregant, began feeling contractions within minutes after the race and
promptly popped out a healthy baby girl.

In what other sport do the elite
and the novice stand together on game day, feeling the same emotions, preparing
for the same pain? On Superbowl sunday, you will never see an 80 year old man or
a severly pregnant woman standing in the pre-game huddle with the professionals.
The TC Ten Mile championship race is the perfect example. The same surge of adrenaline
that pumped through my body was, I'm sure, felt by a "weekend warrior", 6,000
people deep in the starting corral.

My new teammate Chris Clark and I
traveled west to the beautiful twin cities in Minnesota to test our legs against
some of the nation's best. Especially exciting for me was the chance to wear my
vibrant, creamsicle-colored jersey in my professional debut as a ZAP Fitness/Reebok
athlete. What follows is a timeline of raceday, sort of "a day in the life" of a
ZAP athlete at an event:
4:16: Wake up four minutes before my alarm goes
off, nervous as heck.
4:56: Depart hotel on foot for starting line shuttle at
host hotel, 1 mile away.
5:01: Chris asks me if I have everything. I don't.
Realization hits that I've forgotten my Racing bib and timing chip.
5:02: Sprint back to the hotel to gather missing items,
sprint to host hotel
5:45: Arrive at starting line, pace anxiously and use
the bathroom aproximately 47 times
6:15: Warm-up, jog 3 miles and "get in the
zone"
6:45: Approach starting line, feeling like a little bit of a badass
walking with the elites, but also like I'm about 5 years old and don't belong
here.
6:58: Four minutes to race time, hold Chris's arms in a death-grip and
tell him I feel like I may barf, he assures me I'll be fine.
7:02: The gun fires. This is my job... and I love this.
7:07: First mile split 5:28. Relax and roll.
7:11: Eventual winner Janet Cherobon is running directly in front
of me at the first aid station. She grabs a cup of blue Powerade and tosses it
back. About 2% of it lands in her mouth. About 98% of it lands in my
face.
7:12: My face is sticky, my hands are sticky. Everything is sticky.
7:29: Halfway in, girls are starting to fade and I find myself moving closer and closer up front,
stride for stride with women I've idolized since high school.
7:50: There is light at the end of the tunnel, every step brings me closer. I am running side
by side with last year's champion fighting for the 4th and 5th position. There is nothing better than this feeling,
and nothing worse.
7:57: Last hundred meters, throw my head back and do my
best to catch her. Closer, closer, closer, too late. She crosses the line 1
second before I do. I fall to my knees and dry heave. I am satisfied. I have
nothing left. A woman gently taps my shoulder and tells me I have been selected
for drug testing. Fantastic.
9:20: I finally convince my body to pee and am
able to leave the tent and cool down after an interview with Runnerspace where
my powerade-smeared eye make-up gives me a racoonesque appearance. I also call
my fiance and tell him the news. I wish he was here.
12:30: Chris and I attend the after party. I have two beers and enjoy the moment of feeling like
I've finally earned the spot at ZAP I've been offered. (Chris was classy and
waited until the airport to enjoy a glass of Zinfindel)

I honestly feel like the best part of the weekend was returning to ZAP. I'd only arrived a month
earlier, but I felt like I was going home. All I needed was ten miles to give me
the trust I needed to be sure that this program and this group is where I want
to be for the next several years of my life.