When I first found out about the race, I knew at once I had to run in it. Rowley is my maiden name which I am trying so desperately to get back and Annual makes it seem like my name is actually a nickname, which as a kid I always wanted.
That said, Rowley is a far way from Somerville, and as I hate driving... I was not looking forward to hauling my ass in a car all that way. SO, I hatched a plan. I would ride my bike to the race and then run it. I quickly glanced at the map.... 30 miles, totally doable. 9am race start time, I got this. Print out 'bike' directions from google, iPhone in tow, sunscreen, running shoes, water bottles, bike lock, Bailey bag, check.
Alarm rings, I shove some cereal and coffee down the hatch and I'm off. 6am... I have 3 hours to make it. All of a sudden I get a visual of a clock counting down like that lame ass show 24 and I'm Jack Bauer except my ass looks hotter in spandex and my bike is my weapon of choice.
I start following the iPhone directions (for walking) mainly because it seems like less turns. I ride and I ride. Through Medford and Malden and all seems well with the world, until 10 miles or so in I hit Route 1. Now, mind you, I am not a Mass native and rarely venture to towns named Saugus because really, who does?! I then see a highway and a sign with a big X through a bike. I catch my breath and my mind starts to race. Could I bike home and drive instead? Would there be enough time? Maybe I should just give up, this is silly and stupid anyway... I didn't even pay the registration fee, no harm no foul. But then I think, 'what is the point to a mission, if there is no risk of failure'. So I break out the Google directions, 53 turns in all, pair it up with my iPhone and see if there is a way to get back on track. I locate a juncture between my current location and the 'bike directions' and head off iPhone checked about every 5 min or so to make sure I'm getting back on track.
I then remember that website for the race said registration closes at 8:30 and think to myself that I must try and make it by then... but pray for a reprieve if I don't.
Pedaling faster and faster, I hit mid 20 MPH on the flats. My bag sits square in the middle of my back.... somewhat heavy but mainly seeks to create a sweaty mess. Finally, after crossing over 128 and 95, I hit route 1 again....it is now 8:40 and I am wondering 1) will I make it and 2) are they gonna laugh in my face when I want to register. I zip by a wild turkey, a sign for the 5K and in the distance I see the cherry top of the police escort for the race. I do not pass go, I do not collect $200, I proceed directly to the registration table, hopeful.
The kind lady seems unfazed when I ask to register a mere 10 min before the race. I quickly sign my name, fork over a twenty and run off to lock my bike, and switch my shoes. My heart rate drops just in time to hear the air horn, and we are off.
I weave through kids, lots of them and slowly find my pace. When mile 3 hits, I tell myself to go for it. I push, harder and harder and when I see the school, I can hardly breathe at all. My quads are burning from the ride and I tell them to shut it.
I see the clock and push it out for one final tenth of a mile... crossing the finish line in what used to be an imaginable pace to me, but now is 50 sec slower than my personal best. I chit chat with the other runners and slowly walk over to see the results, orange slice and water bottle in hand.
My eyes scan the sheet, expecting nothing other than to see my name and smile but next to it I see a note 1/9. WHAT?! I say....I won my age group. I wonder how this is possible, 1) because I rode 35 miles frantically and 2) because I have never won anything at any running, biking or tri competition ever.
I wait my turn and when my name is called I go up to collect my "I won a 5K" sticker after the announcer says proudly, "Ann Rowley, This race was named for her."
My name had never sounded so sweet.
Love it.
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