A perfect 5 (kilometers, that is)

If you’re having a bad day, you should probably stop reading now, because what I am about to say is going to make you insanely jealous of my life.

This past Saturday, I experienced a perfect race.

I used to think of a perfect race the way I might think of a mythological creature—something that simply does not exist outside of fairy tales and Nicki Minaj’s sexual fantasies. In my mind, a perfect race was like a unicorn, or a good Nickelback song, or a bag of microwave popcorn with no burnt pieces—it just wasn't possible.

Granted, “perfect” is a pretty subjective quality. One man’s perfect is another man’s 1994 Toyota Tercel. So, to clear up any confusion about my definition of “perfect,” below I have listed my Personal Parameters of Perfection (oh yeah, that just rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?). Obviously, these parameters are tailored toward racing scenarios. I think we could all agree that a general, all-encompassing Parameters of Perfection would include only one parameter: Brad Pitt.

My Personal Parameters of Perfection for Racing Scenarios

1. Temperature between 60 and 68 degrees Fahrenheit.

2. Wind so light it feels like a flock of sparkly fairies continually fanning your face with tiny palm leaves.

3. Flat, smooth course with very few turns.

4. Geographic location at or near sea level.

5. Field that is large enough to warrant chip timing but small enough that it is feasible to make multiple pre-race bathroom visits.

The Litchfield Park Friends of the Rec 5K satisfied all of these criteria. Plus, there was bouncy house at the finish! The only negative aspect of the entire affair was that I had to start behind a shirtless man with so much back hair that I can say, with 95 percent confidence, that he was related to either Sasquatch or the Kardashian family. Unfortunately, I was unable to snag a photo of him, but this detailed illustration should give you a pretty good idea of what I was dealing with:

To top it all off, I felt incredible! Seriously, if you train in a cold, miserable, high-altitude location, I highly recommend racing exclusively in Phoenix, Arizona.

Unencumbered by bulky layers of fleece and spandex, I felt light and free. In fact, I found myself intermittently looking down to make sure I was actually wearing clothes. (Although I would hope that my friend Kim—who, by the way, gets all the credit for finding this amazing race—would quickly alert me to that type of situation if it were to occur.)

I went out fast and worried that my unbridled excitement would end up biting me in the butt sometime during the last mile. Instead, I held my pace and felt invincible. I don’t mean to brag, but come on, how many perfect races do you get?

I sprinted across the finish line in 18:07 to grab first-place honors in the women’s race. To be fair, I have a sneaking suspicion that this 5K was missing a few meters. My pal Kim finished close behind me to snap up the silver medal.

I feel obliged to mention that although I edged out Kim for the win in the race, she later destroyed me in the tan-off that took place by her pool.

So even if you’re on the fence about the existence of unicorns, Sasquatch and perfect races, you now have irrefutable evidence that vampires are totally real.  

Quick quiz

This month, the folks at Runner’s World ramped up their effort to appeal to the Teen People reader demographic by including a multiple-choice personality quiz. (Really. See page 54.) So, taking a cue from the longstanding leader in running journalism, I too have developed a little quizzy quiz in hopes of drawing interest from some of the younger members of the running community. But don’t worry, even if you’ve never heard of Selena Gomez, I’m pretty sure you’ll find my questionnaire both entertaining and insightful.

What kind of runner are you?

1.) It’s Friday night, and your best friend is having a barbecue at the mansion she is housesitting while her rich neighbors are on vacation in Bora Bora. It has a pool—with a slide! You really want to go, but you have a 10K road race in the morning. What do you do?

(a) Respectfully decline her invitation. You know you’ll lose your racing focus if you are distracted by loud music, water polo and fruity cocktails.
(b) Go to the party for exactly one hour, limiting yourself to exactly one piña colada. Then return home in time to lay out your racing gear and go through your ritual visualization exercise.
(c) Pool? Water slide? Shirtless dudes? Screw the race—it’s time to par-tay!

2.) You are four intervals into a 10 x 400-meters workout. It’s 90 degrees on the track and you feel like your heart is pumping hot molten lava through your veins. If you attempt to finish the workout, you will probably either collapse or spontaneously combust. What do you do?

(a) Buck up and finish anyway. You always follow through on your workout plans, come hail or high water.
(b) Complete one more lap and then finish with a one-mile tempo run straight to the city pool, where you jump in fully clothed and drenched in sweat, scaring dozens of small children.
(c) Call it good and head to DQ for a lemon-lime Misty Freeze.

3.) One of your old high school cross country teammates is coming through town on her way to a Nickelback concert in Seattle. She leaves you a voicemail wondering if you would like to take her on a run while she’s there. You are training for a seven-mile trail race at the end of the month, and you were planning to do hill repeats this afternoon. What do you do?

(a) Make up an excuse and blow her off. She’s slow, and Nickelback is a terrible band anyway.
(b) Do a short hill workout in the morning and then take her on a leisurely jog along the river.
(c) Save the hills for tomorrow and take your friend on a “run” from bar to bar.

4.) It’s race day! What are you wearing?

(a) Bright green singlet (tech fabric, of course), matching green racing flats, black spandex shorts (for muscle compression and aerodynamic efficiency), arm warmers, hundred-dollar sport sunglasses, GU/water belt. Let’s. Do. This.
(b) Your favorite pair of Nike running shorts (which you scored for 12 bucks at the Sports Authority sidewalk sale last year), a black tank top and your Asics trainers.
(c) Basketball shorts, an old cut-off t-shirt and your cross-trainers from ninth-grade P.E.

5.) What would you do for a Klondike Bar?

(a) Nothing. I would never poison my body with a frozen chunk of sugar and saturated fat.
(b) Beg, borrow and/or steal.
(c) I don’t know, but once I got it, I would trade it in for an Otter Pop—the unquestionable king of summertime treats.


Scoring:

Mostly a’s – The Dashing D-Bag
You won’t let anyone or anything get in the way of your obsessive running habit. You are willing to trade your relationships, social life and personal reputation for training and racing success. Unless you want to end up alone, unhappy and/or in a loony bin, you need to seriously rethink your priorities. Wake up and smell the Klondikes!

Mostly b’s – The Middle-of-the-Road-Runner
You’re serious about running, and you enjoy being successful at it. You also realize that there are other enjoyable aspects of a healthy, balanced life—like piña coladas and social interaction.

Mostly c’s – The Shuffling Slacker
You’ll go for a run if it fits into your busy social calendar, but it’s definitely not at the top of your to-do list. Which is fine—although you might want to go easy on the beer and Otter Pops.