A few weekends ago, I ran a 5k race locally. It began with a hill up the walkway along the beach, and then remained a steady incline until the turnaround.
This race in particular was popular with kids. Good for them, right? But I can tell you that there is nothing more humbling than being passed by an 8-year old.
I struggled a little the first mile and had to fight an impulse to walk. By the turnaround, I had worked it out and ran comfortably hard. For the final stretch of the race, I made my move and ran all out. This was also the time that my iPod slipped from my waistband and fell down inside my running capris. I had no choice but to let it go. So, yes - that was me: the girl crossing the finish line with her hand digging around the crotch of her pants.
I ran an 8.30 minute mile and got to third base with myself.