Corral D

I have found my people.

Three years ago, I was in the first group of runners at the start of the Capitol 10K. Corral A is where the serious people start the race. Nathan McDaniel and I ran it together, or we were together until we rounded the Capitol building and began the long climb up the hill on 15th Street. That is where he left me. Still, I finished in less than an hour, which I considered respectable at the time. Ever the good friend, Nathan was waiting for me at the finish line with a mimosa, which felt less like congratulations and more like judgment.

It was raining when I woke up this morning. The sky was overcast, and it was warm and muggy. Skipping the race was a reasonable option. Everyone else that I had cajoled into joining me bailed, or never even bothered to register (you know who you are). But I am often accused of being unreasonable, so I pinned on my number and headed to the starting line with almost 25,000 other crazy people who had also made a series of poor life choices.

I was late, and the Congress Avenue bridge was packed. I followed the crowd to Corral D in search of a group I could glom onto for moral support. Running the Capitol 10K with the folks in Corral D is a different experience. There are people of all shapes, sizes, and athletic abilities who have elected to spend their Sunday morning in communion with others. There was a four-person caterpillar, a bride and groom, bachelorettes, an armadillo, a piñata, and a regular rodeo of baby strollers. A Golden Retriever with a boom box around its neck was blaring hip-hop. It’s a vibe. A deeply unserious, slightly concerning vibe. I felt right at home.

It has been three years since I have run more than about 50 feet – usually toward a closing elevator door. I do not like cardio, and I had no intention of trying to set any records. The goal – like all my new compadres in Corral D – was just to do it so that we could say we did. The pace was easy, but my new race friend was struggling by mile marker two, and that long climb up 15th Street was a killer. She guessed that inflation had made the miles longer.  

She still runs better than our government (although this is admittedly a low bar).

As we made the turn onto Cesar Chavez Street (or is it First Street again?), leaving the hills behind us for the final stretch, we got passed by a purple dinosaur. Crossing West Avenue, the mural of Wonder Woman on the side of The Line came into view. This was all the inspiration we needed for the push to the finish line and the glories waiting there. The Corral D people were stretched out all along the lakeshore, being cheered on by the more ambitious runners from Corral A who had all finished the race half an hour earlier.

I love Corral D. I’ll take the costumes and the plausible deniability. These are my people.

I will not be posting my time.

Why 10K?