It's Just About Time

We already knew that the New York City Marathon was out there waiting on us.  It was six months away, but it was out there.  Taunting us, daring us to climb in the cage and see if we could tame it.

It wasn’t like we hadn’t been running already.  We had.  Thirty minutes here, forty minutes there.  My bandmate Dean Brown and I were getting out regularly, always keeping an eye on our watches to see how much time we spent on the road.

That’s how we kept from getting lost.  We’d go twenty minutes out, spin it, twenty minutes back.  Fifteen out, fifteen back.  We didn’t always know where we were going, but we knew how long we were gone.

Now, as for how fast we were running, we didn’t have a clue.  Personally, I had not timed a run in years.  I didn’t know if I was running eight-minute miles or elevens.  There would be no speed records set in New York City; that I knew.  But I was curious to know more about what I was doing.

Five-minute miles?  Impossible.  Sevens?  Maybe…for just one mile.  Eights?  Maybe, but I doubted it.  Nines felt more like it.  Even tens would have made me happy.  Twelve-minute miles?  Well, we would still probably have been finishing in front of somebody.  Probably.

Anyway, I hit Deano up to run the Rescue Run 5K with me in Nashville.  It was May 12, 2007, the Saturday morning before our evening performance in Mississippi for the Brett Favre Foundation with Tim McGraw.  It was a short race, so we had the time to run, get back home, shower up and make it to the bus in time.

The race was set for eight o’clock in the morning.  The course was organized and structured; signs noted where each mile marker was located, and volunteers were set to call out our times as we passed each one of them.

By the time I crossed the finish line, I would know where I stood.

The weather was nice, the atmosphere easy.  A little bit of anxiety gurgled in my gut, reminding me that I had not raced in a good while.  I had brought both my stopwatch and my humility with me: the stopwatch to help mark my time, and my humility to help me bear the reality of finishing behind runners twenty years older than me and thirty years younger than me.

It happens, so I was ready.  The gun went off and Deano and I dug in.  (Funny how fast that makes us sound; dug in is so much better than plodded.  I’ll leave it as dug in.)  Two loops through and around Centennial Park in Nashville.  I could do this.

We had a good run, and I am happy to say that I was not beaten by anyone twenty years older than me.  Now, that being said, we struggled to keep a nine-year-old in our sights that was intent on beating us as she ran alongside her dad.  She passed us a couple of times, but we held her off at the end.

Deano noted in “Episode 3” of his Postcards From Deano blog that we conquered her and her father in the final stages of the race.  True, but I have yet to share with him that I saw in the final results that another child of nine finished thirty seconds ahead of both of us.   

I still remember the feeling of triumph that I felt having beaten this child to the finish line.  Yes!  We are MEN!  In your face, little one.  It was really pretty pathetic; fortunately, we kept our sense of superiority to ourselves.

She’d a probably whipped us both. 

My time was 26:08.  Eight minutes and ten seconds per mile.  Not bad - certainly better than I would have expected.  Of course, now that we’re past the marathon and I can see just how long it took me to run the marathon – how fast I didn’t run – it makes the whole endeavor seem a bit silly.

It’s just about time to do it all over again.  It’s cool; I’m in. 

This time, I’m going after both those kids.

Comments

[Christine Donovan]

Ok Jeff... are you concerned that you're "over the hill?" I don't think so. You're in your prime!

I commend you for your running, and at the same time helping others in need, through your efforts.

My motto is "Keep Moving," and your definitely doing that!

Christine