Every year at about this time, I run the Fly Creek Cider Mill 10K. The prize at the end, as you might have guess, is (sweet or hard) cider.*
It's a wee local race with maybe 150 runners in all. The starting line is a mailbox and a crack in the asphalt. Nope. I'm not kidding.
This year, like every other year, the day dawned cold. It was 27 when I left the house.
Dubios Martini is dubious. At least it wasn't raining this year. Small mercies.
The runners in these parts are scary, by the way.
Or just very, very cold.
The course goes up and up and up and never really does feel like it comes back down. You're out into the countryside pretty quickly. You pass cows and plenty of scenic vistas. Water stops are in front yards. It's that kind of race.
I ran with a guy in his 60s who started running three years ago because his doctor told him he'd be dead soon if he didn't lose some weight. He'd just finished a half marathon in March in Ft. Lauderdale. We were joined by a college student whose family was one of the sponsors and got her a free bib. She intended to sign up for the 5K but one of her siblings signed her up for the 10 instead because, well, siblings are like that.
According to the training plan, I was to do a warm up mile before the race and one cool down mile after. The one before was great. The one after didn't happen because I was full of cider and needed to get home before the Husband needed to leave for a show. So it goes.
According to the online results, anyone who finished after 1:11:00 didn't actually finish, which is irritating, but it's a small race that I'm surprised even has a timing system. If I read Herr Garmin correctly, I crossed the line at 1:15. Given the hills and all of my training and travel, I'm happy.
In less than a week, I'll be running Pittsburgh. I have started making a list of gear to pack. It's progress.
* Given that it is a morning race and I have to drive myself home after, I go sweet. And there's a naughty pun in here somewhere that I leave as an exercise for the reader.