Yet again

Another 5K footrace for this old codger.
Five kilometers (5K) is 3.1 miles.
42:01; still bog-slow, but three minutes 47 seconds faster than the last 5K three weeks ago, and this one had a killer hill.
This was the Crosswinds 5K, sponsored by Crosswinds Wesleyan Church in nearby Canandaigua.
I ran this race two years ago, my first race in years.
And I’ve lost track of my time.
I used to run footraces a lot, but not after my stroke.
Crosswinds Wesleyan Church is sort of a mega-church, but not like in south Florida. Thousands of members, but not that many. The Canandaigua area is not that large.
It has huge facilities, even an athletic field comparable to any school.
I was preregistered, but had to pick up my number-tag (above) and a teeshirt.
So, I walked tentatively into the church’s chapel entrance.
The old stroke waazoos kicked in; find the preregistration table, and interact with people. (I’m on-my-own.)
Try to avoid stuttering; don’t muck up.
Finding the preregistration table may involve asking someone.
I first encountered a lobby full of people hawking trinkets and baubles.
“Money-changers in the temple,” I thought. “Den of thieves.”
But the lobby wasn’t the right place.
I continued on.
I stepped into a giant room, a combination gymnasium and auditorium, I guess.
No seats, but it had a stage.
The ceiling was 60-70 feet above the floor, which was about the size of a football grid.
A giant jumbotron was on the wall, flashing sponsors of the race; all scions of the Canandaigua community.
Triumph of conventionality.
Throughout was the booming base of Christian rock music.
Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom!
I’ve never been able to make sense of “Christian-rock” music; to me “Christian-rock” is an oxymoron.
That’s because in the world I grew up in, rock-n-roll was of-the-Devil.
But now I’m told things are different.
Seems religion has co-opted what once were sins.
The high-school in Canandaigua is banning dirty-dancing.
Students protested and started dirty-dancing outside in the parking-lot.
The Police were called.
Grist for the local newspaper.
A student was invited to weigh in on this controversy.
“Things are different from when they were in school,” she said.
They sure are.
“Sock-hops” (so-called) at my high-school were so supervised they became moribund.
All the kids were attending an alternative dancehall, not a school function, that was poorly supervised.
There were no chaperones.
Other high-schools in the Rochester area have enacted dirty-dancing bans, and their school dances have crashed.
The kids aren’t attending.
This sounds a lot like when I was in high-school, and that was almost 50 years ago.
So now I’m told Jesus engaged in dirty-dancing, drank wine (spodie-oddie) and smoked dope.
Or so it seems.
All that religion stood against when I was a kid, is now approved of; and therefore I’m an old fogey.
Number-tag in hand, I walked back outside.
“15 minutes to race-start,” barked an electronic bullhorn. “Runners please congregate in the start area.”
Police had blocked off the road in front of the church.
There were about 400 of us, the right size.
Thousands is a log-jam.
Finally, “Five minutes until race-start,” then a minute, then 20 seconds, then five seconds.
“Ready, on-your-mark......” PRAMMPP, the blast of a freon air-horn.
I had to start on the shoulder; it was that crowded.
We crossed the 5&20 Bypass; traffic was backed up out-of-sight.
The Police had blocked it off.
Horns were blaring, and fists were shaking. “These joggers” were delaying getting my boat in the water.
After about a quarter-mile I pulled even with another guy about my age chugging along.
“I have a hunch I’ll be swapping places with you this whole race,” I said.
“I’ve never run it before,” he said; “and I hear it has a killer hill.”
“Yeah, but it’s at the end,” I said.
“66 and had a stroke,” I said.
He commented he was 68.
“The whole reason I do this,” I said; “is to keep the old ticker going.”
We rounded a corner, and “I bet that’s about a mile,” he said.
“No it’s not,” I said. “One mile is up ahead. It’s marked.”
Over 13 minutes to the mile-mark.
“Not too bad,” he said.
“Oh for the good old days when I could run the first mile in 6:28,” I said.
That was years ago, early 40s, and no stroke yet.
Also about 50 pounds lighter.
We ran down a slight grade.
“Down to lake-level,” I said; “then back up. That’s the killer.”
We turned on another street and up a slight grade.
“Is this it?” he asked.
“Not to lake-level yet,” I said.
He began chugging ahead, about 10 yards as we negotiated a zig-zag.
Down to West Lake Road, with an upgrade ahead.
“That ain’t the killer,” I shouted.
By the time we got to the killer hill he was maybe 25 yards ahead.
Then we started up the hill.
He kept going, but so did I.
Others were stopping, but not us.
But his lead kept growing; about 50 yards at the top.
I passed two ladies after the hill, but was passed myself by a power-walker about 70.
It’s somewhat depressing there are people that can walk faster than I can run.
The hill is a private road through a senior-center, and traffic was heavy.
We were impeding Granny getting to the Racino.
Finally, back on the road in front of the church, and “one-eighth mile to go.”
I tried to wick it up a little.
As the finish-line hove into sight, the timer-clock was still saying 41 minutes.
Can I do it?
I tried to run faster, but still chugging.
The clock went to 42 just as I passed it.
My friend had finished maybe 100 yards ahead of me.
Another reason I do this is I still can.
“These 66-year-old knees are still letting me,” I always say.

• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, and it slightly compromised my speech. (Difficulty putting words together.)
• “Canandaigua Lake” is one of the Finger lakes in Central Western New York. The city of Canandaigua is at the north end of it. (Canandaigua” [“cannon-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city nearby where we live in Central Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 15 miles away.) —The Finger Lakes are a series of north-south lakes in Central New York that look like the imprint of a large hand. The were formed by the receding glacier.
• “5&20” is the main east-west road (a two-lane highway) through our area; State Route 5 and U.S. Route 20, both on the same road. 5&20 is just south of where we live. —A bypass was built around Canandaigua a few years ago. Previously 5&20 went right through it.
• “Racino” (“ray-CEE-no”) is a combination horse-race track and casino, in this case, Finger Lakes Race Track and Casino.