When I turned 40, I was too poor to pay for a proper mid-life crisis, so no red convertibles for me.
Instead, to prove "I still had it" - whatever "it" was - I signed myself up for the Indianapolis 500 Mini Marathon. I had never run 13 miles before at one go, so it was a proper challenge for me.
At the time, I could handle 3 miles without too much trouble. So I worked my way up to 6 and then 9. I think I ran and walked 12 miles on a Saturday or two before the race in early May.
On the big day, the starting line was a sea of athletes - almost 40,000 of us. I planned to run with my sister-in-law, but I lost her as soon as the starting pistol sent us all surging forward.
I found my pace in the first couple of miles and really enjoyed the atmosphere - cheering crowds clustered in places along the route and other folks provided music or water at regular intervals.
By the halfway point I was slowing down. On this particular course, the runners actually get to pound the pavement of the Indy 500 track at about mile 6. The jumbotrons were lit up and were displaying reporters interviewing the winner of the race!
For 13 miles, he had run more than twice as fast as I was running. That sort of took the wind out of my sails.
I was hurting pretty bad by the finish line, but I made it. I don't remember my time exactly, but I think it was in the two hours and 40 minutes range - a personal record! (Easy to get a PR since I had never run a mini-marathon before. 😉)
My favorite part of the entire episode, though, was when I got back home and Caleb, Hannah, and Samuel crowded around me in the living room asking, "Did you win the race, daddy?!"
No, I didn't come in first, but I did beat 17,000 other runners!
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