I racewalked in a corporate 5K on Saturday morning. I finished in a reasonable time. Not bad considering I hadn't done any racewalking since being on the boardwalk at the Jersey Shore in early August. And my legs didn't start aching until, oh, perhaps three hours after the race. And after a nap.
I had forgotten that the best part of racewalking in a running race is playing mind games with the slow runners during the second half of the race. Two types of runners are encountered: those behind, and those ahead. (1) Runners behind me see me as a goal. They MUST catch up to the walker. They catch up, pass by about 20 ft, and then slow to a crawl. In short order, I waddle past them as they rest. (2) Runners ahead of me see me as an embarassment. They just CAN'T let a walker pass them. Whenever I waddle past a runner, I'll hear a grunt of agony or some choice words, and they immediately speed up and pass me. So cool that I am a pacer. (I did nicely encourage a few tired young runners to get moving as I passed them. They all took the advice and sprinted away.)
No photos for you. I looked ridiculous. My self-deprecating spirit does have its limits.
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