This past Saturday was the time for my annual “getting up before the sun rises” wake-up call at 4:30 am. It doesn’t help that I slept terribly the night before, to the point where I had to go crash on the couch in an attempt to get any kind of sleep.

The reason why I had to get up at such an ungodly hour? Parking. Literally one parking spot is why. I was running the Hartford Marathon 5K—NOT the actual marathon—again this year, and although the races start at 8:00 am, you have to get into the city pretty early. This year, all of the races were sold out—marathon, marathon relay, half marathon, and 5K—so we wanted to get there extra early.

I had packed all of my stuff the day before, including picking out what I was going to wear, so all I had to do Saturday morning was get up, eat breakfast, get changed, and complain about being up so early. Josh is my chauffeur, and we parked in the same lot we did last year and got there around 6:10ish; by 6:30 am, the lot was full up, so we lucked out.

This year, I was running as part of the team for the dog rescue that I volunteer with. This was their first year as a charity for the race, so leading up to race day, I also raised money that goes straight to the pups; over $24,000 was raised. At 7:15 am, they were going to do a group picture at their tent in the charity village, so Josh and I headed over around 7:00. Unfortunately, there were no adoptable doggos there; that would have made it so much better (and I probably would have just stayed at the tent to play with them).

The start line has self-seeding, meaning you line up with the “X minute mile” signs on the side; I went just ahead of the 12-minute mile sign. Josh waited with me on the sidewalk, and while I was running, he was going to drop our jackets off back at the car (the lot was a few blocks away from downtown, where everything was happening) and then head over to the finish line.

The wheelchair racers went first from our start line, and then we were all off. I ran this race last year and sort of remembered the course, so that helped a bit. I ran the first mile and a half and then slowed down to walk just a bit to catch my breath. Then, when I started running again, I had the weirdest feeling happen: my body, starting from my legs going up into my torso, got really warm, like I was panicking about something. Then I thought I had to go to the bathroom, and I’m like, um, that’s not gonna happen. It almost felt like a fight or flight response? I didn’t feel lightheaded or anything, so I started walking again and took some deep breaths. (God forbid anything actually happened, there were police and race volunteers along the course who I could have gone to for help.)

I got a bit discouraged because I felt I was doing pretty well, but I also know enough that if something feels off, it’s better to slow down than try to run through it. I walked until I hit mile 2 and then slowly started running again. And I felt fine. Thankfully, after the 2.5-mile mark, it’s all downhill and then flat as you run into the finish line under the arch in Bushnell Park, so that made it easier.

Also, during that last half mile or so, it’s part of the full and half courses, so there are a bunch of people out there cheering with signs. I tried my best to read some of the signs, but I was also running into the sun and didn’t want to sprain an ankle in a pothole. The only signs I remember were “You’re running better than the government” and “Worst parade ever”.

I met up with Josh, and then we hung out at the finish line to watch the first half-marathon runners come in. We also saw a few blind runners come in on the 5K course; there’s an organization that works with people who have disabilities run road races, and it’s always inspiring to see them on the course.

We left a little before 11:00 am, and I was home, showered, had eaten lunch, and was napping by noon. Nothing beats a couch nap, ya know? I had two friends running in the full marathon, so I texted them that I was showered and going to nap, but I was cheering them on from home since they were still running.

I was beating myself up a bit for “only” running the 5K when there were people running a full marathon, but the 5K was me and over 2,000 other people, so it still counts. I felt this way last year, too, comparing myself to others. As Josh said, they only give you the medals if you do it—you have to earn that medal. 5Ks are my jam, plain and simple, and it means you can beat the line in the beer garden.