The Miles for Meals 5K in Savannah is such a toss-up for me. It’s typically the first HOT race of the year with the frustration and disappointment that comes with that.

I’ve failed to PR here. I’ve also nabbed medals here.

But I love it. It’s the epitome of a low-key, local race for a good cause.

TH (The Husband) slept in, but I found a cute note on the breakfast table.

My new coach asked for a weather report. 73 degrees with 100% humidity. She had me run a 1 mile warm up with strides and encouraged me to stay cool before the race.

UH…. how?

Sweaty Selfy

Here is me drenched in sweat before the race start. Even one of the race organizers was laughing at me.

Miles for Meals 2017

The race is so small, so I have trouble deciding where to line up at the start. There’s like 2 elite guys, a handful of people I can’t estimate, and kids.

I haven’t run a 5K race in a good while. A girl my age sprints out ahead and I feel like I should follow.

But then, I realize the elite guys are not pulling away like they should.

And then, I realize that my arms hurt from lack of oxygen.

I must be going way too fast.

The girl ahead peels off to the side and begins walking, and now I’m the idiot in front.

I slow down and get to what ultimately becomes my average pace for the race 3 minutes after the start, but a lot of damage has been done. I clock the first mile at 7:47.

This is suddenly not a fun race.

I pour some water on my head and let some more men pass me.

I hang on the second mile, but don’t have a push for the third, averaging 8:30 for both. Twenty minutes in, two women pull ahead of me having run a much smarter race.

One I know from last year is not in my age group. The other, however, I pretend is not, but am also positive she is, at the same time.

I sit on their heels for the last out and back. The one seems so far away as we approach the finish line. She doesn’t let up and I can’t muster the mental strength to push. I just want to cross that finish line so I can stop running and cool down.

She crosses 2 seconds before me and gets the age-group medal.

Well deserved!

We both hobble to the bathroom. I congratulate her and she thanks me for the pacing (ha!). We have a blast talking and I make a friend.

You win some and you lose some — especially when you sprint out with the men at the start of a hot 5K.

Our tiny race raised over $12,300 which equated to over 2,000 meals to homebound seniors in Savannah, GA. No matter how much this race gets the best of me, I’ll continue for this benefit.

Miles for meals any day.