Well, crap

So I ran a 10k this past weekend with a couple of friends on Super Bowl Sunday. I am not a fast runner (I even hesitate to use "runner"), so my goal has always been pretty modest: finish a 10k in under 60 minutes. That's 6.2 miles. Any ordinary weekend warrior can do this with no problem. You need to average about 9:39 per mile. My problem is that I average about 10:07 a mile, which equates to a finish of about 1 hour, 3 minutes, which is what I finished this race in last year. This year, however, I enlisted my friends to help me out by setting a pace that would guarantee we'd finish in under 60 minutes, as they are both avid runners, and both having completed marathons. It's a lot to ask of someone who is quicker to slow their pace down to meet your goals, but they were willing to help. You'd think that 3 minutes isn't a big deal, but you'd be wrong. To this point, the highlight for doing 10k's has been crossing the finish line: people are cheering, and I've always had a nice feeling of accomplishment. This year however, not so much. I was within 15 yards of the finish line and I started retching uncontrollably. I was bent at the waist trying to get across the finish line when I saw the finishing clock posted at the finish line: 59 minutes 32 seconds! So I quickly (for me) got across the finish line under 60 minutes accomplishing my goal, and continued to try and toss my non-existent cookies, thankfully owing to the fact I had not eaten anything that morning. And it was all thanks to my friends who would not let me fall back to my normal pace.
So this past Sunday I watched the Super Bowl and ate with impunity knowing that I had accomplished my personal goal that very morning. My sense of self-satisfaction came to a screeching halt when I checked the results of the race online later that night: expecting to find my name and a sub 1 hour time posting, I instead found my name next to a time reading 1 hour, 46 seconds. What happened? Well, this race which took place in Davis (a city I loathe) did not use the requisite chip timers that most races use these days. Chip timers are placed on the runners shoes and are activated by mats at the start and finish line, recording to the exact second a runner's time. Instead, they just take a perforation from your race bib and record the time manually. So either the clock at the finish was inaccurate, or the race officials antiquated methods were wrong. So yeah, I could take satisfaction in knowing what the clock said when I crossed the line, but that leaves a hollow feeling, as somebody could say "Prove it," and all I have is a time saying I fell 46 seconds short. So I'm still in search of this goal, hopefully which I'll break sometime this spring. I did take one thing from my near puking in front of a 100 or so people: I will never make fun of Julie Moss again.