On Thanksgiving morning, my brother, sister, step-father and I woke early to run a 5K in the town of Shoreham Wading River. I have been looking forward to this event for some time - running with family would be a fun way to complete my 11th race of the year.
I would like to tell you about how fast I ran the race, but there were no timers anywhere. I would like to write about the numbers we wore on our clothing, but alas, there were no numbers. Perhaps I could mention the chips we wore on our shoes to help determine our pace and time, but no, those did not exist either. I know, I could tell you about the people on the corners cheering us on as we climbed hill after hill, but even that I cannot do because the one small crowd was silent.
This was absolutely the strangest race I have run. No chips, numbers, clocks, timers or cheering fans. Even the finish line was weird - a makeshift narrow passageway between cars. As a runner passed by, a volunteer handed them a small piece of paper with a place number on it. The place number was then handed in to someone who put the card on the number that corresponded with the same number on a wall of numbers. (Okay, perhaps I am making it more confusing than need be - but we were bewildered.) Incidentally, I came in 184th. Not sure how many were in the race, but that's all I've got. Not satisfying at all. I must not forget the t-shirt we did receive, but all I can think of is of making another shirt that says, "I ran the Turkey Trot and all I got was this ugly green t-shirt."
My fellow family members were as let down as I was. We could have saved the entry fee and run on our own, choosing a less hilly area at a later time, like after dessert, around my mother's living room with the kids cheering us on and my mother sporting a stopwatch.