Every year, I say I can’t run the Garden Ten Miler race any worse – and then I do. Now, mind you, I have probably had slower times than I did today. However, I just didn’t run WELL. I was mostly an angry runner with short bursts of elation only when encountering some friendly faces along the way. I simply woke up with no motivation, possibly due to the dreary weather, but mostly due to a lack of any real training, my usual poor hydration efforts, and pure laziness.

I was partly excited to meet my friend Tami at the start, as she had offered to bandit the race in order to have a running partner for the morning. Although I hadn’t seen her in a long time, I have run with her enough over the years to know that she is simply a better, faster runner than me– even when I was at my best. As such, I tried not to fall for her “I’m-really-out-of-shape-now-(but-I’m-lying)” routine.

We got to the start about 10 minutes before the gun, which is how I prefer to arrive, since I have not and never will have any warm-up routine that requires my early arrival. We were joined by my husband, Andy, who I firmly believe was feigning a calf injury so that he wouldn’t have to run his usual, much faster pace. At least I wasn’t the only one lacking enthusiasm?

We started off not too bad as I was able to catch up on all of life’s happenings with Tami while trotting out a comfortable ten-minute pace – Andy in tow, zig-zagging across the course to say hello to all his friends and trying not to appear too bored.

Tami pointed out the spot at which she would bail to her car on the way back and I objected to her leaving me to die for the last ¾ mile to the finish. Unmoved, she stuck to her plan. As we struggled up nearly every hill, Andy spotted our friend Liz a little further behind. “I’m going to go back and help Liz up the hill,” he says. “Good for you,” I thought. “I’m dying, but at least you’ll see me hit the ground when I pass out and hopefully carry me to the finish?”

I was trying to tell myself how lucky I was to have such a gentlemanly, helpful husband until he not only helped Liz up the hill, but actually PASSED me with her on not one, but at least two of these ridiculous hills. I thought,“Don’t mind me. I’ll be back here dead. Go Liz?”

I then spotted a glorious purple and gold jersey from a member of the 2014 PikesPeakSports.us Triple Crown Runners team and felt it was my duty as a former team member to somehow catch up and say hello. As such, I briefly met the lovely Shelley Hitz, who would pass me back and forth for the next several miles to the finish. It made me happy to see the team still in action and helped dampen the bad case of grumpiness I had developed as early as mile two.

We eventually passed an aide station that was decked out to the theme of Frozen, playing the ever popular song “Let It Go”, which for some reason makes me want to rip the ears off my head to save the pain. Grumpiness returned, but luckily, it did help me forget how much my legs and lungs were already screaming.  Make that song STOP! RUN FASTER!

At this point, I had already evolved into Angry Runner much like Bruce Banner evolves into the Hulk, but having run the course a few times, I realized that at this point, I should start seeing the leaders on their way back in and that always boosts my mood. Having friends that are routinely at the front of the pack is always exciting to me and though I struggle to find air for myself, I seem to have a secret lung hidden for them that reserves enough air and energy to scream like a crazed groupie when they run past. Whether they know it or not, it pulls me through the mile or two of misery just watching them run and I like the brief moments when I realize that I, too, am not only running, but SMILING. Today, I was desperately pulling for my friend, Sean O’Day to beat “that other guy”, Jon Teisher, but alas, it appears it wasn’t meant to be. However, the drama helped me pass the slightest bit of the time at one of the most challenging parts of the course, so for that, I am grateful.

By mile 5, I felt nearly dead and Tami has already abandoned me because, as usual, she was NOT “so out of shape” as she claimed. Shocker.  Andy was lagging behind, but decided to surge alongside me only to start walking as I was desperately trying to run myself up the last part of a one mile hill. If I weren’t so tired and delirious, I would have cured this with a strong right hook, but instead I yelled something at him that caused him to speed up and jog ahead, safely out of my reach. At the crest of the hill, I saw another group of friends that included Tom and Lisa Dinwoodie, very cool, friendly people that have on more than one occasion supplied me much needed beer during a race. I was happy to see them until someone from the well-meaning group encouragingly shouted, “The worst part of the course is over! Keep going!” For some reason, coming off the rage of having Andy insultingly walking beside me, coupled with the fact that five more miles seemed nearly impossible, I only mustered a one-finger salute on the way past. Way to go, Angry Runner. Not my proudest moment, for sure.

I had already decided that I really didn’t want to run anymore, but the pride I thought I had left in the car somehow resurfaced and refused to let me do so. As I was slogging up one of the final hills near Balanced Rock, abandoned by both my friends and the love of my life, I looked to my left at the random stranger next to me. Probably in his mid-sixties, midget-height like me, I recognized his misery and noticed that just like me, he was wildly swinging his arms in an attempt to keep momentum going up the hill. I turned and said reassuringly, “You know, we ARE really running.” He responded, “Yes. Just barely.” And we suffered to the top, at which point I lost his company.

Andy decided to come back and look for my corpse around mile nine, at which point I felt like I could almost feel the finish and was still angry at myself for registering for this ridiculously hard race. EVERY. YEAR. I glared at Andy, then the mile nine marker. “OK, it’s time to get to work. I need to get this DONE,” I snarled through my teeth in true Angry Runner style.

I proceeded to run harder than I have in a very long time, ignoring all discomforts and discovered later that while my pace had been around ten minutes per mile the entire race, I finished the last mile with an 8:35. Bam. Done.

I gasped for air past the finish line and then worked my way to the half-mile long line to get my race t-shirt and medal. On the way, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see the random stranger I’d spoken to on Balanced Rock hill. He looked much better now, having finished the race and had a big smile on his face as he said, “Hey, thanks! You know, we DID run that race!”

At that point, Angry Runner disappeared. I realized why I put myself through this perceived misery over and over again. It is the connection with people and the fact that we repeatedly demonstrate that while the world might be filled with some Angry Runners and other equally unpleasant types, there is a greater good that comes from challenging yourself and joining others in the same journey. I find purpose in the runners at the front of the pack, the generous volunteers handing out water (even if they play repulsive music), the spectators with words of encouragement and certainly with the random strangers I’ve encountered on the way, chugging up the hills and doing their very best to succeed. Despite it all, I will run this race again. Though next time, I pledge not to shoot mean finger gestures at my friends? Until then, Tom and Lisa -- I definitely owe you some beer!