I had never run a competitive race before. Here’s how the Bluegrass 10,000 went for me.
On Monday morning I ran the Bluegrass 10,000, which is more a statement of fact and less a statement of achievement.
It’s how I spent the morning of the Fourth of July, 2022: Waking up at 6:30 a.m., walking from my Northside apartment to the downtown race course and taking 58 minutes and 38 seconds to run 10 kilometers (a little more than 6.2 miles) through the heart of Lexington.
This is not some remarkable athletic feat.
Of the 1,658 people who finished Monday’s 46th edition of the Bluegrass 10,000 in person, I came in 684th.
I was beaten by 11- and 12-year-old boys, dusted by a 75-year-old and a 76-year-old, and my time was nearly halved by the men’s division and overall race winner, University of Dayton rising junior Sam Duncan.
I’m far removed from my fledgling days of junior varsity high school soccer, and plenty of beef and beer since has brought me into my current physical condition as a slightly out-of-shape 24-year-old.
I’d never run any kind of formal race before, not even a Thanksgiving turkey trot or color run.
I simply woke up one day in early May, decided to train for and run the Bluegrass 10,000 (a race that features actually impressive athletes) and describe the process of preparing for the most athletic event in my life since intramural college basketball.
What I found was an experience everyone can relate to.
Preparing for the Bluegrass 10,000
This was a spontaneous planning process, without any kind of formal plan or regimen.
The goal was not to enhance my 10K time or to make sure that I hit a certain mark, but rather to just get myself through the race in one piece, without cramping up and desperately begging someone for a banana.
I started by running a 5K between three to five times a week and then steadily increased the distance, hitting 4 then 5 then 6 miles in a single trip.
I found some twisted sense of joy in waking up and getting my daily run out of the way in the morning, and I felt some agitation on the days I postponed my run until the late evening.
I even discovered the mythical runner’s high. It’s real. I can’t explain it, but it is.
All of my training runs were essentially laps through the urban core of Lexington, which offered built in distractions that stimulated my senses.
A jog past Third Street Stuff reminded me to stop in soon for coffee.
Taking a shortcut through Fifth Third Pavilion was a prompt to set aside money to go to the farmer’s market on the weekend.
Catching a glimpse of the Kentucky Theatre marquee informed me that “Elvis” is now showing, and it’s either going to be great or awful.
I derived a sense of being informed from being around town, looking at what stores have in the front window and seeing which restaurants are soon to close.
Running served as a means for me to see more of a city I’ve called home for less than a year, and I’ve learned more about this city and its residents by doing that.
The happy place and the playlist
I want my music fast and loud. The sweet spot is garage rock and punk rock, but anything with a good hard beat and guitars will usually get the job done.
This was the basis for the 20-song run playlist built for the Bluegrass 10,000. There needed to be enough guitar riffs and solos for me to lose my mind in the music as my cardiovascular system strained.
The playlist had classics (Modern Baseball’s “Your Graduation”), international influence (both “Honey” and “Suena Mejor” by Spanish power pop duo Yawners) and even local flavor (“You Deserve Love” from Louisville’s White Reaper).
I thought the music would dull the pain of running and send me into autopilot, but instead it triggered a new reality in my brain.
Just like in the movie “Happy Gilmore” when the titular character is told to find his happy place to improve his golf game, I found the same tranquility during training runs.
My happy place is a fictitious reality where I’m onstage at The Bluebird, a favorite bar and music venue for my friends and I during our college years in Indiana.
The lights are on, there’s smoke floating from the stage, my friends are all in the crowd. I can somehow competently play guitar.
We are in a fantasy land and we are lost in the lyrics and the melody, and just like that 5 miles have flown by.
Bluegrass 10,000 race day
Arriving at the starting line for the Bluegrass 10,000 brought a sense of spectacle.
Prior to the race, I saw old friends reuniting as they stretched. Relationships formed through the Bluegrass 10,000 were brought back up to speed: Stories of children going to college and changes in work and family life filled the early-morning air.
The race means something to a lot of people, but so do the friendships spawned by it. They must, I’ve never seen that many people that happy at 7 a.m. on a holiday before.
Running the race itself went largely as expected: I got out to a slightly-too-quick start and faded midway through the race, before a late surge at the end.
I was beaten by two of the other Herald-Leader employees that I entered the race with (props to breaking news editor Jeremy Chisenhall with a top-275 overall time and photographer Silas Walker for edging me out despite a Sunday night pickup basketball session).
I’m required to note that politics reporter Austin Horn showed up late to the start and accidentally missed a turn on the race course, tossing his time into complete disrepair.
There was something gratifying — a deep and prideful sensation — that came with crossing the finish line and checking my race time to find that it far exceeded my expectations.
The playlist worked its magic. The happy place was visited. The nice people along the course passing out water and sports drinks did yeoman’s work.
I’ve now run the Bluegrass 10,000, that’s a statement of fact. Next up is running it as a statement of achievement.
