The 2013 Santa Dash and Reindeer Run

I'm an idiot. I procrastinate and make excuses and try not to do what I said I'd do and what I wanted to do all year long. And I'm cold.

These are the thoughts that ran through my head as I stood huddled next to ridiculously small open-air fire on Saturday morning. It was 27 degrees, the snow was falling thickly on my Santa hat-covered head, and my feet were absolutely frozen in their non-waterproof running sneakers four inches into the snow. I was waiting for ten o'clock to arrive so I could start running and I was absolutely miserable.

You see, running another 5K was one of my New Year's resolutions and it was December 21, so I really couldn't wait any longer to get it over with. The runners were supposed to come in costume, so there were elves in running shoes, reindeer in running shoes, a couple of Santas in running shoes. There was even one poor chap in red boxers and a green scarf...and running shoes. He looked especially goosepimpled and stayed close to the fire before the start of the run. I hadn't thought about dressing up because I was more focused on how I would stay warm yet cool for the race. I can work up quite a sweat before I finish running those three measly miles, so I didn't want to wear a heavy jacket or even a light one. I'd run in cold weather before and I knew the real concerns were keeping my feet, hands, and ears warm. My torso stayed fairly warm all on its own and my legs would adapt to the cold if I stayed in motion during the race.

You could take pictures before the race.

So I decided on thermal pants, some jogging capris, long striped socks (for festivity), a second pair of ankle socks for warmth and padding, my jogging sneakers, a long-sleeved shirt, a t-shirt, an ear-warming headband, and a santa hat. I was set.

Just waiting around for the race to start.

Josh and Scarlet came out to support me and stayed cozy by the fire. The runners all left the pavilion at the Sugarhouse park and made their way to the starting point. I stood behind the almost-naked guy at the front. I was jumping up and down in part to get some feeling back in my feet and partly because I was getting really excited as I always do at the beginning of a race. We all counted down from ten and then took off at a much faster pace than I normally run. I couldn't help it--I was so excited to be a part of this group of energized, enthusiastic runners. As I pounded down the track with the rest of the first wave, I pulled out my phone/ipod and snapped a quick picture of the runners in front of me. The snow was falling silently and I was stumbling through the ice of the road and my fingers were frozen and I was so excited!

Not many people were ahead of me...at the beginning of the race, anyway.

That lasted maybe two minutes. Maybe. Most likely it lasted thirty seconds. Then the strangest sensation took over me. The snow on the road sucked at my shoes, making it much more difficult for me to pick up my feet and slam them back down. And every time I did manage to lift a foot and force it back down, I slid into a small pile of snow or stumbled over a firm block of ice. I was finding it extremely difficult to move my feet in this run. Also, the cold air felt thin and razor sharp on my lungs. I'd been training at night in my work building's gym after Scarlet went to bed so Josh could study in peace for his actuary exam. It's the closest free treadmill I know of, so I had been training indoors on a 2.0 incline in the air conditioning. Running in less than 30-degree weather on a snow-covered track in the thin air was significantly different and infinitely more difficult. My nose started to run and wouldn't stop the entire race. My lungs were on fire. My legs had turned to jelly at the same time that my fingers went into that aching numb mode. What on earth was I thinking?!

At the first hill I slowed to a stumbling walk and began to cough and hack and bend over and try to grab enough oxygen in that frozen hell to keep myself from dying. Runners zoomed past me while I fought for air and my arms vibrated and my nose streamed. This was miserable. I wanted to go home. Josh had not been excited about my running the 5K the morning we had planned to leave for Las Vegas to spend an early Christmas with my family. He was anxious to beat the foul weather that was expected to hit Salt Lake City that morning. I was being very stubborn and insisted we pack up the car, drive to the race, and leave for Vegas afterward. It was inconvenient and dangerous if the storm followed us south (it did), but I just wanted to get the darn thing over with. Now that I was wheezing at a snail's pace on the track with bedecked joggers in jingle bells tinkling past me, I was seriously regretting my decision.

After what seemed an exaggerated amount of time, I had slowed my breathing enough that I felt I could start running again. I had started off so much faster than my normal pace that it took me way longer to catch my breath. I never walked enough to slow my breathing to normal because that defeats the purpose of a good cardio jog, so when I felt that I could breathe enough to live, I began to jog again. This time, I took it slow, moving at the pace I had practiced in the gym and regulating my breathing into a steady pattern in time with my footfalls. The snow was brutal on my feet. I kept slipping and stumbling and the track was much hillier than the incline I trained at. I slowed to a walk more than once to catch my breath. I started to set goals for myself along the way: just jog until you reach the light post; then you can rest. Don't let that mom-and-son tag team beat you to the trash can. Catch up to that Santa Claus in the sneakers before taking a break.

My hands were moving out of the achy numb stage and into the warm, blood-pumping stage. I was starting to get warmed up. A dip in the road opened up a downhill track and I picked up the pace and allowed gravity and inertia to propel me into the next leg of the journey. My body was toasty warm now and I had found my groove. Instead of stopping after this song or that next lamp post, I kept going, kept moving my goal to the next song, the next landmark until I absolutely had to stop to catch my breath. Then I'd walk slowly, coughing and wiping my nose, and regulate my breathing somewhat before jumping right back into the jog. I was in the zone.

Notes for the novice jogger: Power ballads and piano music are not appropriate for a race. You must have fast tempo-ed, energetic songs planned for your run. I had not organized my music in any particular order or genre on my phone, so after rocking out to a quick-paced rock song, I caught the lovely strains of a wordless piano melody. Very beautiful, but my body immediately responded to the slower tempo and dropped down to a slower jog. I grabbed the finger of my glove with my teeth and pulled off one of my gloves to change the song. Then I picked up the pace and kept going.

The last stretch of the race is a frighteningly steep hill covered in smushed ice and snow followed by a lane of double-parked cars to the finish line. Many people had completed the race by now. I decided that I was close enough to the end that I wasn't going to take another break from jogging so I kept running despite my wheezing lungs. I had to be very careful going down that hill. Inertia is the last thing you want more of when running down an icy slope, and gravity is no longer your ally. I picked my way softly and carefully down the hill, then picked up the pace along the lane of parked cars. I figured Josh and Scarlet would be waiting in the car because of the weather, but I passed my car and saw nobody in it. Instead I fixed my eyes on the finish line. Dozens of people waited with signs and cameras. Family members, race personnel, and joggers all milled about with hot chocolate. They always cheer on the runners, so people began to clap and cheer for me as I made my way toward them. Then I saw Josh holding up a pink fleece-jacketed bundle a little apart from the crowd and I aimed toward them.

I flew past the finish line and ran right up to Josh before stopping and bending over to breathe. Josh tried to kiss me in congratulations but I wheezed out, "Let me catch my breath first." Most people can run three miles without struggling. Most people wouldn't even think of a 5K as a big deal. But I cannot run three miles easily and a 5K is a HUGE deal, so I am proud to say that I completed my race and took a victory picture with Santa before packing up and heading off to Las Vegas for the weekend.

I ate cookies almost the whole way down.

Santa's looking trim because of all the jogging he does. He also totally beat me to the finish line.