THE 5K:
THE FIRST STEP(S)
By Sarah
Unless you count the mile at fourth-grade field day, my first running race was a corporate challenge 5K, done with a bunch of my rowdy co-workers at a regional sports magazine. Despite spending our days writing about sports and fitness, none of us had specifically trained for the race. If memory serves right—this was 22 years ago, so cut me a little slack—we found out about the Wednesday evening race on a Tuesday. The husband-and-wife owners of the magazine had gotten free entries as trade for an ad in the magazine, so we figured, “What the h-e-double-toothpicks.” My compadres and I were all in our twenties and relatively fit. I was an avid gym goer, another editor was a tennis player, and there were a few soccer and ultimate Frisbee players in our ragtag crew. Plus, we heard talk of free beer at the finish line.
I shudder when I recall what I must have looked like as we clustered near the start line along San Francisco’s Embarcadero. I wore a pair of orange-and-white-striped nylon shorts that were almost short enough to qualify as bun huggers. (They were vertically striped, though, so I had that going for me.) On top, I sported a men’s large white cotton long-sleeve tee emblazoned with our magazine’s title across the chest. But more horrifying than the shirt’s bagginess or the shorts’ TMI must have been the look on my face—and the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I was immersed in a sea of runners bouncing up and down and flapping their arms to stay warm as the evening fog rolled across the bay. The two other editors, Sue and Chris, were talking about what pace they planned on running, while I had no clue about how to pace myself or if I’d even be able to cover the entire distance.
After some corporate suit’s welcoming remarks (which sounded to nervous me like the garbled wah-wah-wah way adults talk in Peanuts cartoons), the starting gun sounded, and we were off. I don’t remember much about the actual race, but I distinctly remember how I felt after I crossed the finish line: elated. I’d just run my first race! I’d run the entire way, and I hadn’t come in last. A victory.
My virgin race experience—including, um, not remembering a thing about the actual race—is not that unusual. The 5K is a perfect race for beginning runners, for gym rats who want to spend more time on the treadmill, for you to accompany a friend who needs a booster by her side, and for seasoned racers looking to add a speedy dash to their endurance training.
PRACTICAL Motherly ADVICE
LET’S START AT THE VERY BEGINNING
By Dimity
We always say the world would be a better place if there were more mother runners in it. But how does one go from driving on the road to running on the road? With your help, of course. Here are a few tips for helping an interested but not yet convinced friend to get her run on.
- Realize that, just like getting married or having a baby, there is no optimal time to change a lifestyle. So when she asks about running, don’t reply with a murky, “Oh, yeah, let’s run together sometime.” Instead, jump through the slightly ajar door. Call her—or sit down with her—and map out when you’re going to walk/run together. Aim for 30-minute segments, three times a week, for a few weeks. Then show up.
- If she is coming from a mostly sedentary lifestyle, encourage her to start with 3 weeks of walking, four times a week for 30 minutes. That’s a good foundation to get her going on our 5K: Finish It plan.
- When it’s time to run, have her go small. The 5K: Finish It plan starts with 2 minutes of running. If that feels like too much, 1 minute or 30 seconds is fine, too.
- Have her go slowly, too. Running, to many nonrunners, hearkens back to a near-death intensity, à la the 100-meter dash way back in grade school. Lay out only one rule: When you run together, you have to go at a pace at which she can converse—or at least answer your questions with more than a “yes” or “no.”
- Remember, your runs together are about her, not you, so don’t think of her miles as your workout. Instead, use the days you run with her as your easy, recovery days; get in a run before you head out with her; or ask her to join you for the final miles of one of your long runs. If you’re marathon training, plan to meet her at mile 15 of your 18-miler: You’ll love the company, and she’ll get to see that everybody eventually slows down. Try not to freak her out by telling her stories about your riotous intestines or the swath of skin rubbed raw by your new sports bra.
- When the going gets tough for her—and it will—remind her running is hard, and every athlete gets down on herself now and then. Carry a tiny velvet hammer: Be sympathetic, but also be sure she gets (most of) the workout done. She might hate you temporarily, but ultimately she’ll love you for many miles to come.
While I don’t recommend jumping into a 5K with a single day’s notice like I did at age 24, it can be done. Whether you’re crossing your first or your 21st 5K finish line, the training doesn’t eat up a ton of time, since the longest you’ll need to trot is 30 minutes. Translation: Your family will barely notice you’re missing before you walk back through the door.
Short training doesn’t mean inconsequential training, though. The miles you put in for a 5K are plentiful enough to produce tangible changes, such as a looser waist in your jeans, better moods, and enhanced confidence. If you’re a beginning runner taking on a 5K for the first time, you will likely see a smaller number on the scale. If you’re gunning for a 5K PR, you will likely see a lower number on your Garmin. But as you reap the benefits, you won’t lose ground in other places; your boss, whether a business school graduate or a preschooler, won’t comment on you being tired, drag-assy, or nodding off at your desk.
Three point one miles is the perfect distance to taste success as a beginner—long enough to elicit pride as you cross the finish line, yet short enough to prevent flameout—as well as to push yourself if you’re a more experienced runner. Paradoxically, a 5K race actually gets harder as you get stronger and faster. Instead of cruising along with a smile on your face as newbies do, you crank and crank with a scowl contorting your mug. Maybe this is why many runners move on to longer distances after a few 5Ks: a prolonged yet lower-intensity effort can be more comfortable than the short-but-extreme stints. Or maybe many intermediate and advanced runners move past the 5K, feeling it’s an entry-level distance.
I encourage you to sideline that attitude: Just because you have crossed the line on some 13.1- or even 26.2-mile races, don’t think you’re beyond 3.1-mile ones. Pushing yourself hard, without letting your foot off the gas, for 5 kilometers is a challenging thrill. What’s more, a 5K is also an excellent tune-up race for almost every other distance; it builds the endurance of newbie 10Kers and hones the speed of half- or full marathoners.
TAKE IT From A MOTHER
ARE YOU AN INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT ON RACE DAY?
“I’m a total introvert. I don’t want to chat. Smile and nod at me. That’s all I want.”
—COREY (Elected not to buy the race photo of herself retching on University of Colorado’s Folsom Field.)
“I’m an introvert until the gun goes off, and then I find myself gabbing with everyone.”
—TERRI (Her second half-marathon, a tough course on which she had to take walk breaks and got blisters, left her depressed for a while.)
“I talk sometimes, but usually just try to breathe. I did a race 6 weeks after my first daughter was born and felt I needed to explain to everyone why I was doughy, slow, and had leaking breasts. I chatted a lot that race.”
—HEATHER (A minimalist on training runs: “I don’t even carry water.”)
“I listen to music, but I’m also an extrovert—possibly to the extent that others find me obnoxious. What can I say? All my solo running catches up with me, and when I’m in a race, I have to chat it up with other racers, the race officials, the fans.”
—PHOEBE (Occasionally struggles with a sudden “need to go” during a run, so before a race she normally takes a couple chewable Imodium tablets with lots of water.)
“Definitely an introvert. I’m in the zone, so don’t bug me.”
—MICHELLE (Keeps track of her race times: “It would drive me batty if I didn’t.”)
“I thank volunteers, and also yell out what kilometer we’ve passed when I’m racing in the U.S.”
—KIM (A Canuck who is working on silencing her inner voice that tells her she’s too slow.)
“In life, I’m a total extrovert, but on race day, I’m mostly an introvert. This is a mystery I’m still trying to figure out.”
—TARA (Sex the night before a race? “Ha. Good one.”)
Still need to be convinced? Even if you blitz through the course, the recovery from a 5K won’t slow you down like a 13.1- or 26.2-mile race will. Those longer events can leave you hobbled, in that painfully good way, for days, and make you scale back your running for weeks, if not a month. Instead, after a 5K, you can down some chocolate milk, hop in the shower, and be good to go for a full day of family fun. Better yet, your kids might be able to do the race with you. Many 5Ks cater to families with fun runs for younger kids and courses that older kids can tackle. You run, they run, and then . . . ta-da . . . naptime for everyone in the afternoon. Talk about a win–win.
I promise, I’m not trying to shill a Snuggie, PajamaJeans, or other infomercial gem, but I’ll be honest: After that inaugural effort, I didn’t do another 5K race for nearly 20 years. I moved on to 10Ks, a half-marathon, and then focused on marathons, rowing, and, oh yeah, having kids. For whatever reason, I decided distance was more appealing, and I forgot the allure of shorter races.
Two decades after that 5K in San Francisco, I stepped back into the distance at the U.S. headquarters of Nike, not far from my Portland home. The race was a fund-raiser for local schools. (Another selling point of 5Ks: They often benefit charitable organizations, so you can help out a cause in a fun, proactive way.) Phoebe, my older daughter, was in kindergarten at the time, so she was set to run a 1-mile race after my 3.1-mile one. There was a party atmosphere at the start. I waved at some other parents I knew, then gave the thumbs-up to my fam on the sidelines.
Since I was, by then, a veteran of numerous other races, my stomach wasn’t clenched in a fist as it had been in the City by the Bay. This time, in the lead-up to the race, I’d followed an 8-week training plan. I’d honed my speed somewhat, yet I didn’t have much of a race plan. When I spied Kelly, a friend in a bright green tank top, I decided to keep her in my sights throughout the race. Or at least try to.
Within the first few steps of the race, I had an alien experience. I felt light on my feet. At 5 feet 11 inches and 163 pounds, it was a new sensation for me; I decided to go with it instead of question it. I veered to the outside to pass a group of runners, and I turned on the gas once I cleared them. Kelly, in kelly, was only a few steps ahead of me. Along a straightaway, she started to pull away, but as we rounded a curve, I could see her brown ponytail bobbing. At the 2-mile mark, I stepped up my pace again and started to close some ground between me and greenie. A mile later, my lungs and quads were straining, but not with the overwhelming heaviness that often fills my legs in longer races. I crossed the line in 23:33 (thanks, Athlinks.com, for storing my times!), good enough for a surprising third in my age group. It seemed (heck, seems) so unbelievable, yet it highlights another 5K attribute: These shorter races often have fewer participants, so you have more room to run your own race and possibly end up with some accolades.
Later that day, as my 2-year-old twins napped, I stopped staring at my age-group plaque long enough to scour the Internet for upcoming local 5Ks. Still riding the post-race buzz, I definitely wasn’t going to wait until I was in the 60-to-65 age group to rip up a 5K again.
5K: FINISH IT1
“A 5K is a nice blend of distance and speed. Plus, if you go out too fast, you’re not completely dead at the end.”
—ALISA
Best for: A beginner looking to test the waters of this training/race thing.
Physical Prereq: A couple weeks of consistent 30-minute-or-more walks, three to four times a week. No running experience needed.
Plan Overview: This 10-week program builds incrementally, through walk/run combos, to a 30-minute straight run before the 5K. All walk/run workouts are 30 to 35 minutes, but if you can swing it, add 5 minutes of easy walking as a warm-up and cool-down to sandwich your main workout.
1 What it says: 
What you do: Regardless of how you have to reschedule your week, do not miss this workout.
More details: Although this plan is slightly repetitive, each session is vital because it helps prepare your heart, lungs, and muscles for your sure-to-be-spectacular upcoming running feats. Kind of like how a womb prepares itself for a bambino to grow.
2 What it says: 5 x walk 4 min; run 2 min.
What you do: Warm up by walking for 5 minutes. Then, walk briskly for 4 minutes and run for 2 minutes, and repeat the cycle for a total of five times. Cool down for 5 minutes. Done!
More details: Walk segments are at a brisk, steady pace. Runs should be done at a slow, easy, and comfortable pace. No heavy breathing. Save that for elsewhere—and, yes, your husbands can thank us.
3 What it says: XT
What you do: Anything but run. Aim for 30 to 45 minutes at a moderate-to-harder effort level on the bike or elliptical, or in the pool. (Click here for other suggestions.)
More details: If you’re so inclined, feel free to throw in a few short bursts of higher intensity during your workout.
4 What it says: XT, or rest
What you do: Take your pick. It’s best to crosstrain if you haven’t been up more than once the previous night.
More details: Try not to let yourself off the hook too many times. In addition to helping you see the finish line of the 5K, we’re secretly trying to get you into the habit of making a workout a part of your daily routine. (We’re sneaky like that.)
5 What it says: 
What you do: If need be, skip it.
More details: In an ideal world, you’ll be so stoked from seeing your near-daily improvement that you won’t miss many workouts. In this world, first bail on your XT/rest days before you skip runs. If all else fails, bail on the marked runs, but do your best not to miss more than two walk/run sessions in a row.
6 What it says: Rest
What you do: Lock your kids in the basement, put your feet up, watch a little TLC. J/K, dude, J/K. But you do need one day of no prescribed workout at least once a week.
7 What it says: Fun workout
What you do: Click here, pick your poison, and let the good times roll.
8 What it says: 5K!
What you do: Soak up the experience as you hustle your buns toward the finish line.
More details: Take a lot of pics: As your first race, you’ll want to look back at them fondly.
TAKE IT From A MOTHER
DO YOU HAVE SEX OR A DRINK THE NIGHT BEFORE A RACE?
“Before kids: both; after kids: neither. Who can stay up for that?”
—JUDY (Motivates herself by thinking about the other moms running at 6:30 A.M.)
“I may have a glass of wine depending on where we eat and who we are with. Sex? That depends on the wine consumption.”
—JOANNA (May or may not buy race photos: “Depends on how skinny I look.”)
“My husband refused the night before my 10-miler. He said I needed to ‘save’ my legs.”
—CAROLINA (Dream running date: Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles.)
“Sex, of course! I know I will be too sore for it after the race.”
—BOBBI (Began running when she was deployed to Iraq: “I was coming out of a bad relationship, plus there was the stress of being in a combat zone. Running seemed like the best way to save my sanity.”)
“Maybe alcohol. No sex. What if I got hurt?!”
—KRISTI (Not good at crosstraining—minus bedroom acrobatics: “I either want to run or rest my legs.”)
“No alcohol, but it’s a reward post-race. Sex depends on how much I am asking of my husband on the day of the race. If it is going to be a long day for him with the kids, definitely.”
—YEIKO (Still wears her sports bras from eighth grade.)
“My husband doesn’t even ask.”
—MELANIE (Scared that the seams on her favorite eight-year-old black Brooks shorts, a must-have for marathons, are going to split.)
“Hell yeah, both.”
—MICHELE (After the initial post-race desire to vomit has passed, welcomes a post-race margarita.)
5K: OWN IT
“In my last 5K, I ran negative splits and finished with a kick I didn’t know I was capable of. I felt like a rock star, passing everyone who had run out of gas.”
—ERICA
Best for: More experienced runners looking to bust out a new personal best at this short-but-intense distance.
Physical Prereq: Your idea of a comfortable long run is at least 5 miles, and you have an established base of 15 to 20 (or more) miles per week. A prior 5K and at least a familiarity with the burn of speedwork is a bonus, but not necessarily a requirement.
Plan Overview: This 10-week program hones your speed in a variety of ways, from strides to sustained tempo runs to six Thursday track workouts. The long runs top out at about 8 miles, ensuring you’ll have more than enough in your tank to keep the accelerator pushed down the entire 3.1-mile racecourse.
1 What it says: E: 4 miles + 4 strides
What you do: Run 4 miles easy. Toward the end, along a flat stretch, run your booty off for roughly 100 meters or 30 seconds to finish one stride. Recover for roughly the same amount of distance or time, then repeat three more times.
More details: Rein yourself in during the 4 miles: It’s easy to get overexcited for the strides, but stay in cruise control until it’s time to rev your engine.
2 What it says:
What you do: If life collides with your training, opt out of this workout.
3 What it says: E: 3 miles; or XT
What you do: Runner’s choice: Either run 3 miles easy or crosstrain. (Click here for suggestions.)
More details: There’s no right or wrong; both options will get your body closer to the starting line.
4 What it says:
What you do: Come proverbial hell or high water, you’ve got to get this workout done.
5 What it says: 1 mile WU; 4 x 400 at current 5K RP w/400 recovery; 1 mile CD
What you do: Run for a mile to warm up, then run 400 meters at the pace you currently can sustain during a 5K race. Immediately following this effort, run slowly or walk for 400 meters. Repeat this fast/slow sequence for a total of four times. Trot a mile to cool down.
More details: One lap around a regulation track (read: not the dinky indoor one at your health club) = 400 meters =.25 mile. If you don’t have a nearby track, use a measured quarter mile or gauge it on your wrist GPS.
6 What it says: LR: 5 miles
What you do: Hit the road or treadmill for 5 miles.
More details: Unless we tell you to go faster for part of a long run, you always want to cover the distance at a pace you could comfortably gab the whole way. (And hopefully you will, with a BRF—best running friend—by your side.)
7 What it says: Rest.
What you do: Nothing.
More details: Do we really have to tell you twice?
8 What it says: 1 mile WU; T: 2 x 1 mile, .5-mile recovery; 1 mile CD
What you do: Warm up at an easy pace for a mile. Then shift into a higher gear to run tempo pace for 1 mile. Take it easy for a half-mile, then crank out another faster mile, followed by a 1-mile cooldown.
More details: Tempo runs like these two 1-milers aren’t all-out sprints; aim for about 75 to 85 percent power output.
9 What it says: Fun workout
What you do: Anything active your heart desires for at least 30 minutes and up to 90 minutes at a light to moderate effort. (Click here for suggestions.)
More details: We’ve all felt burned out, when running sounds as much fun as flying cross-country with a fussy baby. These wildcard workouts are shuffled into the plan to prevent ennui.
10 What it says: XT (light)
What you do: Don’t push yourself too hard—or take up a new (or daredevil) sport. Now is not the time to overtax your muscles doing Zumba or break your ankle hang gliding. An easy swim, bike ride, or yoga class would be ideal. Skip doing weights.
11 What it says: E: 2–3 miles; or off
What you do: Listen to your legs—and your head. If you need to get your pre-race ya-yas out, do a light run. Otherwise, take a rest day. Both of us opt for putting our feet up.
12 What it says: 5K!
What you do: This is it—your day to bust a move.
More details: Unlike every other race distance, you don’t have the luxury to ease into a 5K. Once the gun goes off, so do you. Be ready for it by running a few miles, plus a few strides (ah, your old friends), before the start.
.1 ASK DIMITY
While running with friends is usually a smooth ride, even relationships built on mileage can experience a little turbulence now and then. So fasten your seat belt while I try to smooth things out.
Dear Dimity:
My best running friend just moved across the country, and I am sunk like a battleship. I have no motivation to run on. What should I do?
—To quote the Police, “I feel so lonely.”
Dear So Lonely:
A split from a running buddy can be just as bad as a romantic breakup. Whenever you see your running shoes, your heart hurts; every route you drive, you remember the poignant conversations you had; every time you think of getting out there solo, you think, “But it was just so much better with her by my side.”
Time passes, though, and you have to move on, which she’d want you to do. A few ways to find a new pal:
• Call a local running store or running club to find out when its group runs are. Be honest about your pace, which can be easier to do over the phone than in person. Chances are, the group runs attract all paces, but sometimes just the speedy boys show up, and you don’t need to feel more left behind than you already do. On the run, pretend you’re an extrovert if you’re not, and see if you can’t pluck a new BRF from the crowd.
• Tell people—your hairdresser, your neighbor, the mom you carpool with—that you’re looking for a running buddy. They might be in the same position or know of somebody who is.
• Be bold and ask the mom who always drops her kids off at school in running clothes what she’s training for and if she’d like a partner. Or ask the neighborhood woman who gardens in her Nike Tempo shorts if she’s a runner.
• Enter a local half-marathon or marathon; often, longer races have Facebook pages or other virtual ways to connect, and you can post your plea there.
• Stroller Strides and Moms in Motion are two national organizations with get-’em-moving local chapters. Even if their schedule doesn’t work for you on a regular basis, it’s worth it to hit a class and check out the crowd to see if you can meet your match there.
• Run a race with Team in Training or another charitable organization whose cause is close to your heart. Then you and your fellow runners will have two very important things that bond you.
Dear Dimity:
I love my running friend, but she is so competitive. She drops her race times into conversations, even when I don’t ask, and she always wants to know mine. How can I let her know she needs to tone it down?
—Annoyed and confused
Dear A + C:
Next time she asks about your time, go on and on about the race. You had a great race. The crowd was amazing, as was your family, who found you three times and made the cutest signs ever. You ran much stronger than you were expecting to, and can’t wait to go back next year. Don’t mention your time, and see if that gentle hint soaks in. If it doesn’t, be more direct. “I love running with you and think these miles together are worth much more than any finishing time could indicate. I’d rather focus on our friendship than some hard, cold number.”
Dear Dimity:
One of my running group members invited a new person to run with us, and I can’t stand her. I’m pissed our group dynamic has been spoiled. What should I do?
—Want to trip and break her ankle
Dear Tripper:
There are two ways to deal with this. First, suck it up and find a way to either hang behind or in front of her. If your group has enough members, within a mile or two, you naturally break off into groups of two or three or, if you’re so inclined, one. Nothing wrong with running on your own within the group’s bubble.
If that isn’t an option, and you’re conflict averse, like I am, play the I-can’t-run-on-our-usual-days-anymore card and bow out. You can either run solo or quietly ask one runner from the group to join you. If your splinter group ends up growing, be sure to lay out some ground rules about invitations to new members. Yes, that sounds harsh, but it’s practical. Plus, I know of some book groups whose membership rules are longer than War and Peace.
Dear Dimity:
My friend’s husband is really unsupportive of her running: He grumbles every time she asks to go for a run. She’s running less and less, and I hate that. What can I do?
—Freedom ain’t a state like Maine or Virginia
Dear Freedom Fighter:
Unfortunately, not much. As much as I’d like to, I can’t force somebody to run, and as much as you’d like to, you can’t referee somebody else’s marriage. You can, however, make it as trouble-free as possible for her to get out and run. Here’s how:
• Suggest that you and she run in the early morning, so that she arrives home before her household members are awake.
• Take her kids with you. Depending on the stroller situation and number of offspring, borrow a running stroller or two and alternate pushing. Or take the kids to a track, plop them in the infield with a few toys or games, and get your miles in together.
• Offer to babysit her kids at your house while she runs. Obviously, the ideal is to run together, but her running—and soaking up the confidence and strength that it brings her—would be my priority.
• When you do suggest these ideas, be as direct as possible. “We’ll run tomorrow at nine o’clock at the track, so I’ll pick you up at eight forty-five, okay?” so that she has less room to waffle. When you get out there together, don’t talk about the husband unless she brings the topic up. Let her know you support and love her, and will do what you can to keep her moving and spending time with you.
Dear Dimity:
My friend with whom I’ve been training for a marathon has a stress fracture, and she’s out. I’ve been tiptoeing around her, because I’m not sure what I should do: Do I talk about my running or the race? Or do I pretend like I’m not training anymore?
—Stressed about the stress fracture
Dear Stressed:
If you’ve never had an injury that prevented you from crossing the starting line, consider yourself blessed. I’ll fill you in on how it feels: really, really sucky, especially for a race like a marathon, which takes up obscene amounts of your time and brain space. Combine the cramps and headaches of PMS with a bikini wax and having to put your dog to sleep, and you’re coming close to how she’s feeling.
You can’t make it better, but you can treat her to a latte or a glass of wine (a kid-free date, preferably). As you sip, make it all about her: Ask her how she’s doing, how she’s filling her time, if she’s caught up on all the episodes of Big Love, if her boss is as annoying as ever. As you well know, running isn’t just a physical outlet; it’s time to clear the mental fog, hang out with friends, and press the reset button. If she’s a typical mom, she likely hasn’t done any of that for herself since her bone cracked. Let her talk, vent, cry, and laugh while you simply listen.
After the race, get her something small like flowers (or something running related: You be the judge if that’s right) and attach a note saying something like, “We’ll get ’em next time.”