Hi guys. Long time listener, first time caller. I started a local summer 5k circuit yesterday. I was looking forward to this year's series with my wife who is a marathoner but she's getting over an injury and wants to get her miles back up before she starts running at race speeds. I was planning on meeting some of her friends there to run with them, but it didn't work out exactly as I'd hoped. A local bar sponsors the event, and although it technically starts at 7, the last time I went to one of these 7pm starts, it actually went off at 7:30. So I was parking my car at about 7:02 and went to get my number. The registration lady was already breaking the tent down. She just stared at me and said, ok, give me your ten dollar entry fee, and the race starts over there. I got there, and there was one older dude jogging towards the start line who was like, oh, yeah, i got here late too, they started a while ago. What? Tonight, they started at 7:00. Glad they got that worked out. I have no idea what time this was. So now I have a number in a race I barely even know the route to, and there's literally not a single runner within sight for me to follow except the old jogger, except he was ridiculously slow. To his great credit, he kept yelling directions to me until I saw the first of the walkers, and then a water tent that was closing up, and a bunch of people across the bridge run-walking over the hill, and so on. As I tried to cross the bridge, I got caught behind double wide women (they were walking two by two, too) and took the last opportunity I'd get to break around them for the next mile as I was about to get caught on a sidewalk with a guard rail that runs down a small highway. Weird place for a race route but I guess they like the river view and feel the guard rail makes it safe enough. So while I'm behind the guard rail, I'm now passing power walkers with their headphones so loud I can hear them through my headphones. I say "on your left" for no apparent reason, since they have no interest in listening for such, and I have to dodge the spinning blades of death that are their karate chop power walk hands. As if to reinforce how far back I am, I then get stuck behind a mother and her two kids who have decided to ride their bikes along the route so they can follow their dad. Except they're so slow that they either have no chance to catch their dad, or I couldn't see their dad because he is the predator. And, like the others on the path, they seem inexplicably confused by words like "on your left" or "excuse me". I turn my head to see if I can hop the guard rail and run past them, and I'm thankful that I looked, because a huge escalade is pulling up along side them with a dude hanging his head out the window saying, get out of the way, can't you see there's a race going on? Which was great, except he was now blocking me inside the guardrail, while the mother stopped to talk to him and he kept yelling at her. I try to make myself inconspicuous as I sneak around them, but there's very little room, and, to be honest, in high school I probably would have made it without touching her, but things change. So one of the kids turns around and says, mommy, why is that man touching you? At which point I decide to start running again, and find my speed in a way to which I'm unaccustomed. As I work my way to the finish line, I see a bunch of people ahead who are actually running. Well, jogging. And they've stopped to walk a few times, but still, these are actual runners. I must have made somewhat good time to catch up to them. And suddenly they start sprinting. So I figure this must be the finish line, and in the 85+ degree heat and humidity, after running full speed away from the bike family, I start my final sprint, hoping to salvage some semblance of a time. Except it turns out that this wasn't the finish line. Somebody had a camera and they wanted to look good in their picture so they started running full speed. So now I'm drenched in sweat, and I have a new stitch in my side, and I realize that the sign up there says mile three, which isn't really that long a run but I've been pouring it on and getting stuck repeatedly along the way. So I try to go continue the sprint to the finish line, but now I'm dying, because I'm going way too fast for it, and my face is turning purple. And as I cross the finish line, with the clock showing 34:46, I look like death incarnate and am slowed down to the last bit of jog left in my legs, feeling like I've run the best race I possibly could have under the conditions, it's right then that the camera guy takes a picture for their website and says, almost sympathetically, good job, way to run it out at the end. So my wife asked me how fast I ran, and I didn't want to tell her I was late, so I just told her I ran sub 7s. I didn't tell her I meant 7 minute Ks, but if you can't lie to the woman you love, why get married?