Your favorite intern dorking it up at her first 5K!

During my more difficult moments as a child, my mom often joked about dropping me off on the side of the freeway. On Thanksgiving, she finally got her chance.
I ran my first race ever in my hometown of San Jose on Thanksgiving Day. It was fantastic, but it didn’t work out anything like I’d planned. Not realizing the race had, gulp, 22,000 participants, I gave myself a half-hour before the gun to get to the starting line, a 10-minute drive from my house. When we neared the freeway ramp to downtown, my mom and I realized the traffic was backed up around just about every exit near where we needed to be.
As we sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I squinted at the car clock as it ominously

Yeah, this happened.

approached 7:50, the start time for my 10K race. I remained optimistic, but when the clock got to 7:45 and we were still not on the ramp, I knew I had to check out whether I could make the 5K gun. Thankfully, it started at 8:15. But all-too-soon, the clock read 8:05 and I was still on the off ramp. I saw a runner trotting up on the side of the freeway. It was raining, cold, early, and cars were backed up as far as the eye could see: Three months ago, I would’ve looked at him with raised eyebrows and the same bewilderment I wore on my face when I spotted SBS on Mile 22 of the Portland Marathon, looking like she was having a blast.
Instead, I asked myself: What would SBS and Dim do?

Finished!

Naturally, I got out of the car and started running behind him, along the side of the freeway and down the shut-down off ramp. My mom looked at me like I was a stranger. “Just don’t get arrested!” she yelled behind me, which was not the first time she’s given me that admonishment (something to look forward to for the young mamas!).
I made it to the 5K start in time to get in a couple puffs of my inhaler and start up my Best of Bowie playlist. (In hindsight, maybe it should have been Tom Petty tunes, including “Runnin’ Down a Dream.”) While I started out dodging other people in the first half mile or so, eventually the race thinned out, and I continued with folks who were just about my pace. I picked out the most able-bodied looking of them all, a tall guy about my age, and told myself he wasn’t getting out of my sight. Mentally, he pulled me along.
Having gotten to runs more than three times the length of the 5K, it felt like it was over in a flash. It also made me wish I had done more interval training rather than focusing on building endurance. But it felt so great to finish my first race with something left in the tank—rather than handcuffed in a squad car for running on a freeway.