Races can be so weird. You wake up frighteningly early, pay a registration fee, and pin a bib to your shirt. You deal with staggered starts, shoe chips, the gut-sinking blast of a starter gun, and attempted navigation through harried clusters of other runners. You want a side of claustrophobia with those nerves? Races are anything but laid back, which is why I quit them. Until yesterday’s High Five 5k in Clintonville.
Last week, I read an article about Pete Dully and his group High Five Running. Through the simple act of smacking someone’s palm, he reprogrammed a grim and laborious experience into a whimsical roving brouhaha. At his “race,” I learned that a few dozen high fives gave me more stamina than any training manual or pasta dinner. We started somewhere around (the reasonable hour of) 10:00 with Pete cassually yelling, “Ok, go.” As someone who has run in more races than I can remember, this was different. I had fun. Click here for more photos.