I am way, WAY overdue for a race recap on Mickey’s Jingle
Jungle 5K. But it’s a tough one about
which to write. Though I can sum it up
succinctly: It. Sucked. Royally.
To be clear, the race didn’t suck due to any wrongdoing by
runDisney. Nope, they did a superb job
of putting this one together! What
sucked was my injured state. And my
child’s attitude.
My bout with IT Band Syndrome is already well documented in
my blog, so I won’t rehash that. Suffice
it to say that I was still battling it and shouldn’t have run at all that
day. But I hadn’t been running in almost
two weeks and felt great at the start.
Aaaaaand… look what corral we were put into:
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| Pictorial evidence.. 'cause it'll never happen again. |
How can anyone start in corral A and not run the start of a race?!
I have no idea how we wound up there, but I wasn't about to be the only person
walking through the start in A. Pride cometh before a fall, right?
My son, Leo, didn’t train for this race at all. I forced him to run with me a few times, but
he was so miserable, I stopped bothering.
Still, he wanted to do the race and was excited about it, despite having
had a very difficult week prior thanks to a burgeoning pre-teen ‘tude. On race morning, he was sullen and
sulky. He was cold, but refused to do
any stretching or moving around to warm-up.
He said he wanted to be there, but frowned and complained about the loud
music. He did perk up some once we
started running, though.
The course itself was okay.
Lots of parking lot, lots of backstage area of Animal Kingdom (AK), and
a little of the park, much like the course for the 2012 Expedition Everest Challenge we ran in May. It was MUCH
nicer to run the AK in daylight, though.
I never noticed as a slow-moving park guest just how lumpy, bumpy and
uneven most of those walkways are… but I sure noticed as a runner! Between scanning the ground before me and
keeping track of both Leo and the pack of other runners, my mind was too busy
to notice the growing pain in my knee until it was too late.
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| Hi. My knee feels like someone's trying to rip it out, piece by piece. But looky how cute I am! |
Despite a good deal of walking, by the second mile, I was
way beyond “discomfort” and every other step was pure agony. It ruined the race, as nothing could distract
me from that pain. I wanted to feel
elation when we rounded a turn and saw the Finish, but all I felt was a loud
cry from my knee, “Oh sweet mercy, we’re almost DONE!!!” Adding salt to the wound, Leo shook me off
when I reached for his hand to hold as we crossed the finish line.
I know he’s 10 and I get that he’s moody, temperamental and
seeking independence. But I was really
hurt by his refusal to help his mom across the finish. Doing my best to dam the flood of tears threatening
to overflow, I accepted my very-cool medal, grabbed a water and snack box and
led the way out of the finish chute. I
even managed to smile for a picture with Leo and our medals. I made it to a medical tent for ice and we
ate our snacks in equally icy silence in the middle of the parking lot.
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| My unofficial finisher's photo. |
Finally, I explained to Leo how upsetting it was for him to
refuse my hand at the end and asked him why he’d done that.
“I just didn’t feel like it,” he shrugged.
Ah, boys. They say
what they mean, and they mean what they say.
He just “didn’t feel like it.” It
wasn’t a commentary on his feelings at the time, nor was it a belligerent
attempt to tick-off his mom. We had a
continued discussion about taking time to think of how our actions affect
others and, on my part, not taking every little thing so personally. Leo gave me a big hug, helped me to my feet,
and asked, “So, we’re gonna go do some rides now, right?”
Oy. I had indeed promised that we’d hit a few
rides after our race, before going back to our hotel to rest and clean-up. I’d been hoping my knee would be numb enough
by then that I’d not feel the pain, like had happened after the Tower of Terror 10-Miler a month earlier… but no. I
winced with every other step, sucking in big breaths with the stabbing pain as we
walked slowly toward the park entrance.
It remained at or around that level of pain throughout the day, finally
abating with a double dose of Aleve, followed by a martini. Don’t judge.
My culminating thoughts on the race? The Jingle Jungle was part of the Wine &
Dine Half-Marathon weekend festivities, so Disney had a lot of race-type folks
to handle all weekend. Packet pick-up
and the expo were really well-engineered – plenty of space for all and easily
navigated. The race logistics, too, were
really well handled. Putting us into
lettered corrals was a nice touch, even if we did all start at the same time;
it made for a lot less craziness at the start than I’d seen with either the
Everest Challenge or the Royal Family 5K.
A metric ton of volunteers were fantastic cheerleaders, helpers and
directors – they deserve a big round of applause. And the Jingle Jungle medals were pretty
darned spiffy.
But…
I’m not real sure we’ll do another runDisney 5K anytime soon. For one thing, the cost is prohibitive. The registration fee for the 2013 Expedition
Everest Challenge has almost doubled
to$110 per person. That’s INSANE for a
5K distance. Sure, it includes an
after-party at the AK, but we’re Floridians with annual passes; we can go to AK
any time without extra cost. And,
honestly, I’m finding that I enjoy the quiet solitude of my training runs so
much more than the overstimulating, crowded conditions of Disney races. Our local races are much closer
approximations of my soothing training runs – only, you know, faster. And.
Cheaper. By a lot. Add in one cranky pre-teen boy and I’m pretty
unwilling to shell out a bunch of cash for a short race at Disney. We’ll see…
Still, I have that Princess Half-Marathon looming in the
ever-decreasing distance. Will my stupid
leg EVER get better? Stay tuned!
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