The Jingle Bell Run: A Good Race and A Missed Opportunity

First things first! Let me wish to each of you the best of tidings for the upcoming holidays! It's my hope that the coming days allow you to enjoy special moments with friends and family!

It was thinking about family that led my wife and I to plan a December trip to Oregon. Since we'd scheduled a couple days in Eugene to ourselves, I came across The Jingle Bell Run. Nothing fancy. Just a small race with a 5K for Amy and a 15K for me, scheduled for the day before our flight back to Iowa.

However, with injuries wiping out every race since late July, this "no-frills" run took on a greater prominence. It would not only serve as a test of my conditioning, but I would also be running in Eugene - the Running Capital of the World!

While I was confident that my training had prepared me to handle the distance, the real question hovering in my head was determining a pace. Speed workouts over the past several weeks had been encouraging. Still, I knew I wasn't close to where I'd been back in the summer. As a result, I decided that to run a "cautious" race pace for the first 4-5 miles. If I felt strong, I could then pick up the pace for the remainder. What could go wrong with that?

Fun Fact: December and February are the peak months of the cold and flu season. I know this because I managed to catch my first cold in over six years two days before my first race in nearly five months.

I suspect Amy, who had raised three children prior to me, still had no idea the immense burden that enduring a distance runner with a head cold would place upon her the day of the race. Fortunately, her wisdom prevailed as I grudgingly downed the prerequisite medicine and followed her guidance. Finally, armed with multiple changes of clothes and rousing playlist of alternative music from today as well as several select gems harkening back to the mid-80’s (Love you, Kate Bush!), we arrived at Maurie Jacobs Park.

After my warmup run, I had the distinct pleasure of meeting Tom and Denise Nash. Courtesy of Strava and Facebook, he and I discovered that we’d competed in several of the same community college races when he ran for Lane with me in that obnoxious green for Umpqua. Both of them joined my wife in racing the 5K with Tom winning his age group and Denise coming in second. It's my hope our paths cross again

As amply illustrated in the picture above, most people opted for three-mile race, leaving the diehards for 15K. Conditions were nearly perfect. High 30’s with no wind on a course made up of bicycle trails alongside the Willamette River. (And that's Wil-lam-ette - Not Willa-Mette!) Starter’s gun went off as I punched in Franz Ferdinand’s “Right Action” on my earbuds to get the party started.

Take it easy, I told myself as the cluster of runners started to thin. But I felt fine. The exertion clears my head, encouraging me to move up. Sixth place. Fifth. Fourth before I settled into third. Could I do this for another 8 miles?

Why not? No way I'd ever catch the guy in the lead, but the second runner appeared locked into a comfortable pace that I could mirror. But was it too fast? Was I only a third of the way through this?

Too many questions. Not having competed for several months, I’m reminded that there’s the mental aspect of a race as well as the physical. I was doing fine on the one but struggled more with the other.

Nonetheless, maintaining a strong, but comfortable pace allowed me to pass the next guy at just over five miles.

That put me into second place in a race in Eugene, Oregon at 62 years of age. I should've been savoring every moment of a good race in my home state. Instead, my head worked against me. Was I going too fast? Had I missed a turn? When would I see the next marker? Enough, I told myself. Focus on the race.

Which turned out to be a “not so good” idea. Seemed that a guy sitting down on a bridge with several long candy canes served as the official turnaround point. But being uber-focused, I sped past him, hoping to pick the pace a bit. Instead, I ran out of bicycle trail about a third of a mile later. Uttering a couple words that rhyme with the University of Oregon mascot, I turned around, resolved to regain what ground I could.

Here the race took another unexpected turn. Although I was clearly irate over now having to ran over half a mile further in this race, every runner I now encountered shouted words of encouragement and support. Their actions reminded me that this was just a small run put on by some volunteers who wanted people to enjoy themselves. No one would be qualifying for Boston based on today’s results.

Best as I could determine, I'd made it back to third place and from there, I crossed my fingers in the hopes that the path I was on would actually lead to the finish line. With The Killing Joke’s “Love Like Blood” pounding in my earbuds, I saw that Start/Finish banner as well as my lovely wife waiting for me. That should have been more than enough. But still being a bit peeved about the turnaround mishap, I duly informed the race director of my disappointment. Once again, my frustration dissipated under that same genuine sincerity I'd encountered on the course. They did not mean for that to happen. That volunteer had already contacted them, feeling awful about it.

At that moment, I felt a bit awful myself. My earbuds would have drowned out anyone calling out to me. Nor did it really matter that much. Second place? Third place? Who really cared? This had been intended as a pleasant event to end 2022.

After talking with several of the runners, including the winner and second place finisher, I realized that while I had a good race, I had missed a key opportunity. I'd failed to enjoy excitement of being in a race. Not just how I was doing. But taking in the event itself. Truly notice the tall firs on the edge of the parks as well as the scrappy oaks and maples near the river. Actually listen to the playlist I had put so much thought into preparing. Let all of that as well as the other runners serve as an additional motivation in lieu of a laser focus solely on myself.

Later, I emailed the race director, thanking him for the opportunity to be a part of this run. It was the least I could do as a reminder for the future.

What are your thoughts on this? Any of you ever been in a similar situation? You can respond below or on FB.

(And there's my beautiful wife, Amy, who took these pictures and is now suffering from the same cold that I had. Please send some positive energy her way!)