St. Catherine's Jig Jog - West Dundee- September 12, 2009

This seemed like a great idea when I wrote it on the calendar. A No Pay 5k 15min from home. Although it would be my first solo effort, I was ready to wave the flag for the team on my own. The conditions this particular morning were very similar to the previous. Weather: Over Cast and in the low 70’s, mild humidity, but pretty foggy, and there was an actual chill in the air that was quite comforting. Let’s first get one thing straight about this race. If you’re going to name your race the “Jig Jog”, you’re just asking for trouble. I should’ve known better than to park in the actual church parking lot though. I didn’t expect to be locked in, then again I wasn’t actually thinking once I was in the process of being guided into my spot by a rather chipper volunteer. The car parker offered a gesture of good luck and I wanted to tell him that the only luck I needed was to not get mauled by a pack of angry hung over Irishman but I think he noticed my distinct features and realized we were connected by blood. As always, I had arrived way earlier than I needed to so I made my rounds around the church as part of my normal warm up. I noticed that this race was part of an Irish festival that was put on by the church and it was definitely true to form. There were maybe ten food vendors in total taking up about 20% of the designated area while the massive beer garden engulfed the rest and there were no rides or children’s games in site. Everyone here was here to run and then get pissed. My first impression of the race was that it was going to be a little smaller than the ones in the past but I had no idea just how small it would be. As people started to warm up, stretch and get closer to the starting line, I kept my distance as I could already feel various eyes peering at me. Now, it was probably just nerves as I was eagerly awaiting a mythical bus to pull up and unload the other 200-300 runners but it never showed up. The time arrived and it was inevitable, I had to make my way to the starting line and find middle ground amongst what felt like fifty people (I would later find out that a total of 122 people ran the race which is about a third of the crowd that I was used to). It seemed like everyone knew each other and I was the outsider being protected only by the mere fact that they could smell the Guinness coursing through my veins. Although I didn’t pay for this race I was still somewhat of the red haired step child of the family and therefore accepted. The gun goes off and I’m immediately where I need to be skill wise. There is no wasted time in this race as I luckily placed myself in front of the geriatric crew, and the rest of the “those to be passed” group. There was no sideways running, no running on people’s lawns and definitely no elbows needed. The course was nothing amazing but it did have a few semi-challenging hills as we zig zagged through a normal neighborhood, making a turn at mile two to come straight back the way we came. I was actually able to keep the leaders in my sites for most of the race and started to feel a great sense of accomplishment. At this point I wasn’t aware of the small numbers in the entire pack (and the fact that there was literally nothing to look at in the sense of eye candy and actually started to let my mind drift to situations involving some half decent cougars.) I getting excited a the fact that there was potential that I may actually finish in the top of it. I had no idea. Mile two ends, I hit the watch and hear a volunteer yell, “Pour it On, It’s all downhill from here”. So I do exactly that, pour it on to the tune of running Mile 3 in just over 7min, no thanks to the unnamed volunteer. The one thing the bitch forgot to mention was that the final two tenths of a mile were straight up hill again so when I got close to the finish line I literally had to pull the energy out from under my feat to unleash a minimal sprint. Wait though, this is where it get’s good. As I’m closing in on what appears to be the last 200 yards I’m now huffing like a bum on a glue bag and being cheered on by a group of five of the most Irish little girls you’ve ever seen, all of them waving green pom poms (this is the point where I get the feeling that my mom would beat me if she knew what I was doing). If you’re not Irish then you’re not aware of the fact that Irish mothers can administer punishment until the point when either of you die, age does not matter. Ok, now it get’s really good. I make the last turn and can see the finish line thirty yards away. I really let it all out as I hear about six spectators cheering and screaming and then….I realize I’m the only one they are cheering for and I didn’t pay for this race and have no bib number to turn in. I’m now literally 100 feet from the finish line and I take a quick left and end up in the parking lot. The cheers abruptly stop for about ten seconds until the next runner makes his way in and they start up again. Now I’m thinking woah that was close, until I realize I’m in the wrong parking lot and my car is on the other side of the race. I immediately take my shirt off, step up to the side of the race and start cheering for the rest of the racers as if no one will notice the extremely pale sweaty guy with no shirt on and think I was the same person that jumped out of the race mere inches from the finish. After about a minute I make my way to the other side of the lot and get to my car, change my shirt, get some of my own water (Again, we at Team No Pay 5k do not condone the consumption of race provided goods), and realize I’m locked in as the parking lot is closed until the race is over. I don’t care at this point, come and get me, I just completed my first solo No Pay 5K at a time of 22:55 and I’m psyched. One small step for men who don’t pay, One giant step for Team No Pay 5K.