Survival of the Fastest

Today I woke up at 6 a.m. Not unusual except for today is Sunday. I do not roll out of bed on Sunday before I absolutely have to. Now, not only did I drag my ass out of bed at 6 but I laced up my running shoes and headed downtown to the Shamrock Run.
I am not a runner. I'm not really even a walker. I maybe averaged walking twice per week for the last five weeks. I signed up for this run with the best of intentions, planning to workout at least three times a week. Um, not so much.
Right about 8:05 they called for the 5K runners to line up. I walked with the thousands of others up to the start/finish line, and as soon as I crossed the blue timing mats I tried to pace myself slowly so I could run longer than usual before having to slow down and walk. It's difficult to maintain your own pace because there's people passing you so you want to go faster but you have to tell yourself not to. Finishing is what's important.
I actually ran the first mile and a half. The crowd cheering you on really makes a difference. As you run around the course and weave your way up Burnside and back over to Broadway, the hardcore drunks open the doors at the bar and yell for you. Running over Park Avenue all the homeless people stand up and cheer for you too. Not sure if it's the cheering or the smell but it does help you pick up the pace.
I only walked about a half mile up Broadway (it was uphill, it was difficult). I started running again once the course turned and we started working our way downhill towards Front Ave. I kept at it, and I so wanted to walk again but then once I got to Front I could see the huge flags that signified the Finish. I kept running, thinking there's the finish line. As I'm running up Front Ave., I notice more and more people are lining the street. I realize I don't want anyone to see how slow I'm actually running so I pick up the pace again.
I am waiting for my official time to get posted, but I think I finished in 40 minutes.
In true Portland fashion, everyone who finished got a free beer (Widmer) and a bowl of clam chowder (McCormick & Schmick's). And true to my roots, when I was done I went for a pedicure.