It seems to me that colds last longer now than they did a few years ago. It’s like something mutated. I haven’t felt like myself in a long time. Every muscle is fuzzy. I kind of wonder if the vitamins aren’t helping and are actually making me sick.

Yesterday’s 5k performance was most unstellar. This was not a case of “Surprise! I did awesome!” I knew it was going to be ugly, so I didn’t even start my watch. When you have a 10-minute coughing fit before the gun fires, you can’t expect much. Some races we run for a PR. Some races we run for charity. Some races we run for comraderie. And some races we run because we paid for them and we’re going to get our money’s worth, damnit. Guess which one this was.

The Feaster Five is a spectacular event of impressive scale for a day when Americans typically act like lazy gluttons. About 10,000 people got up at the pre-crack of dawn, not to toss a bird in the oven but to go for a run on a gloomy November morning. That really impresses me. I dragged my boys out to Andover to join those people. Motivated by the promise of the ever-enticing “Goody Bag,” Henry hoofed 200 meters in the kids’ run, then gave a video race report for Brian’s blog before insisting they wait in the car while I ran the 5k.

Now that’s a jaded son of a marathoner.

For my part, I did not feel much like a marathoner. When you’re making deals with yourself to prevent walking in a 5k, you tend not to feel a lot like a distance runner. Kristina, for crying out loud, you can’t walk in a 5k. Do you want that family with turkeys on their heads to beat you? Worse, do you want people in full costume to beat you? No. Suck it up and run.

And there you have my goal for the race: don’t let anyone in a costume beat you. It was close, I tell you. At mile 2, I passed a trio of Santa, Elf, and Turkey. You can’t let a turkey beat you, Kristina. A ham, maybe. But not a turkey.

Just after I passed those three, I heard the police motorcycle for the 5-mile race leader. The courses are set up so that the 5k runners and 5-mile runners start together, run about a mile together, and then diverge. The courses reconverge at mile 2 for the 5k and mile 4 for the 5 milers. As I was sighing relief that I wouldn’t be bested by giant poultry, the leader for the 5 miler passed me, demonstrating that he could run 4 miles in the time I can run 2. It was Nate, who went on to win the men’s 5 miler in 24 minutes and change. Show off. [insert wink here]

Joan Benoit Samuelson won the women’s five miler. This race is that awesome. And so is Joan.

I ran a 25:56–4 minutes slower than my PR. I ran a 5k at marathon pace, and it was hard. I am not pleased. But I beat the turkey, so at least I met that goal.

I expected to do poorly, but not that bad. It took me three miles to catch up with the Hoyts. I’ve passed them in a race before and always feel inspired by what they do, though yesterday I was hoping it would take me far less than three miles to catch them.

The day was not a total loss, however. My first coaching client ran a 5k, for which his goal was to beat the pants off his brother. I love the spirit of family that Thanksgiving elicits. With some strides in the training plan I wrote for him and a savvy race strategy, he met his goal! Score 1 for Kristina’s Family Competition Coaching Special!

If only Kristina could race as well these days.