Black-Eye Pea New Year’s 5k

<>For once it was not my idea to run a race. <>

On New Year’s Eve Cindy decides that she wants to walk in the morning, and finds a little 5k race in Fort Worth on the internet. I groan that I’m in no shape to race and she retorts that the race isn’t for me. Cris, Cindy’s niece, agrees to walk with Cindy. My son, Tony, pipes in that this is something the whole family should do. The next morning eight of us: me, Cindy, and our two kids and Cris, her husband Aaron and their two kids, are on our way to the race.

The Black-Eye Pea New Year’s 5k plays on the southern tradition of eating a bowl of black-eye peas on New Year’s Day as a way of appropriating luck for the upcoming year. The course is out and back along the Trinity River; along paths that are Fort Worth’s equivalent of the West River and Kelly Drives. For the first time, my whole family will participate in a race; I help them with the usual pre-race routines such as filling out registration forms, safety pinning race numbers on, and herding everyone for water and a porta potty stop.

<>They all line up in the back and I line up in front. As with many things in Texas, the race director’s pre-race comments are a bit folksier than one finds up north, and I take the time to look around. About 200 participants line up; clearly not a major race. Hard to tell who, if anybody, might be competition here beyond a group of young males, either high school or college age. The gun goes off and, as is age appropriate, they all take off like jackrabbits. I, on the other hand, take a more conservative start, necessitated by shortness of breath and a slight lightheadedness. I ain’t close to being in any racing form. <>

Mile 1 passes in 5:49, dispelling any hopes that perhaps I’m running faster than I think. One by one, however, I reel in the boys now wilting ahead of me and move into second place, with the first place runner about 100 yards ahead. My attention quickly shifts from the unlikely prospect of overtaking the lead runner, another youngster, to the sound of footsteps and breathing behind me. At the turnaround I see three guys about five yards behind me. It was now a fox hunt, and if any of these hounds have any finishing kick I will be dead.

In the mix of runners still heading the other way, I first see Aaron and then see Tony jogging along. The shock on my face is answered by his beaming face. I let out a whoop and high five him as he passes. I hope that my outburst has the hounds thinking that I am coasting, because I am struggling. Mile 2 passes in 5:35, a bit better. But time is irrelevant now as the race has become purely tactical. My strategy is simple – don’t let the hounds overtake me. A minute later footsteps move closer and I too amp it up and wait until this surge abates. I hate the intensity of these damn 5k races. My mind ponders the I-30 overpass now in sight, which I know is just before the finish. That moment is punctured by a shout from one of my pursuers. I realize I have gone straight where the course has veered left. A curse and a correction later I am trailing the lead hound by ten yards. Now I’m in pursuit but quickly overtake him again. A quarter mile left, but the race is over. Mile 3 goes by in 5:50 and the finishing time is a very so-so 17:48. I start the New Year knowing I have work to do.

<>I finish, catch my breath, and double back on the course to look for Tony. I fall in with him a little past mile 2. Sweat has soaked through his long-sleeved t-shirt and his hair is pasted to his forehead, but he smiles when I ask him how he is doing. He is a tough kid, but also a very cautious kid, so I’m surprised that he has ventured ahead on his own. I talk him through the rest of the race, and with about a half mile to go we alternate between running and walking until the finish line is in sight. I tell him that at this point runners gather whatever they have left to finish strong. In response he takes off with more energy than I thought he had left and runs the last quarter mile to finish in 40:58. I don’t know who is happier, me or him.

I leave Tony with Aaron (finished in about 31:00), and double back one more time. After about half a mile I run into Cindy, Cris and the girls. Upon seeing me, Cindy and Cris take off and jog in the rest of the way. Maricela looks very fresh but tells me to forget any notion of her doing any more than walking through the race, whereupon she returns to planet iPod. My attention turns to Cris’ kids, Victoria (10) and Erica (5). They complain of cramps but are in good spirits and horse around as we walk into the finish. The usual post-race spread is supplemented with black-eye peas and Coors, and my finish is good enough for the prize, as first masters runner, of a large mason jar full of (what else?) black-eye peas. Tony, to his delight, gets an age group prize of a small mason jar of the same (as does Erica). We are both very proud to pose for a post-race picture with our jars and both agree we will do this again soon.