That 10 Miler

I’m again in one of those situations where I have a post-it note full of blog post ideas (dating all the way back to Feb) that never actually make it into being. Regular writing will come in stages; I’m just going to have to wait for the next time. For now I’m just rolling on present information.

I decided to take part in the annual Charlottesville 10 Miler. This year’s beneficiary is PACEM, an interfaith collaboration of local congregations and community partners which helps the homeless find shelter at night, particularly during the winter months. Charlottesville goes a bit crazy over this event; people come into town from different states just to take part and roads are closed off to make way for the runners.

I wondered what motivates people to run. I myself had no real rational argument. Up till about two years ago, I was physically unable to enjoy anything resembling a sport (this includes frisbee and Captain’s ball). I was also the last girl in the 2.4km line-up through all of JC. I’ve rarely been to the gym before this semester. Then in January, I started going and to my surprise found that running made me feel more emotionally organized, for lack of a better phrase. I read about the Darfur 5k and Winnie and I start training for it (it’s for a good cause, it’s a good goal to have, why not). We ran it on a freezing but sunny February morning through the campus and surrounding neighborhoods. Winnie mentioned the 10 miler afterwards; my response was “haha very funny!” Then I mentioned it to Eric, who, though not a runner himself, for some reason made it his mission to infect me with enthusiasm for the idea.

When I was running today thinking “Why on earth am I doing this anyway”, the C’ville community broke out in a full force Barnabas wall. The race was so organized that there were volunteers of all ages and races every step of the way cheering you on – not just shouting encouragements and handing out water, but having a FANTASTIC TIME doing so. Bands were playing in front of churches along the route, African-American gospel at one point, bluegrass as we ran through downtown. My favorites were the applauding construction workers on the mall and the little boy with round Potter-like glasses offering high fives to every runner who passed him.