Roughly two months ago, a friend who works at Nike sent me a vague text message. “How do you feel about running :) And are you free April 22?” she wrote. I am free April 22, I thought. Running on the other hand… But I responded saying I was free, anyway. I’d hear her out.
Eventually, she told me that to celebrate the Epic React launch, the brand was hosting its first-ever Nike 10K in L.A., with proceeds going to local charities. They were shutting down the 90 Freeway—the first time the highway would be blocked off since the 1984 Olympics—for roughly 10,000 other runners (7,000 people ended up joining the race). I’d be part of a small group of women from various media outlets, and we’d train for six weeks.
I’m active but not a runner by any means. Running, for me, usually meant getting on the treadmill for 20 to 30 minutes and maxing out at 6 mph on a great day. At most, I’d run two miles. So 10K seemed really, really aggressive. The highly melodramatic thoughts started swirling around my head: Could I even run that long? What if I can’t and I just pass out when my legs eventually give out?
I texted my friend back: “Are the other girls doing the 10K pro runners?” She assured me that the group of women Nike had chosen were mostly beginners—for the majority of us, this was our first ever race. I wanted to challenge myself, so I agreed; 6.4 miles, that was the goal.
For the next six weeks, we met every Tuesday at the Nike HQ in New York and trained in our new Epic React Flyknits. Some days we ran shorter distances (roughly two to three miles), other days we did some drills. During the rest of the week, we followed a rigorous workout schedule that included some low impact cross training and long distance runs on the weekends. We often ran in the cold; my lungs burned every single time.
I was told I’d get used to running by the third week, and thankfully, I did. The training sessions were less painful. My speed was improving. Once, I somehow managed to clock in 6.5 miles. How? I still don’t know, but maybe because I was running somewhere (to get food *shrug*) and was banging Nipsey Hussle’s Victory Lap all the way through.
But come race day, I was still nervous as fuck. The night before, I could barely sleep and kept dreaming about running, but not finishing, a race. But it was too late to back out now. So I got up for my 6:30 AM call time; loaded my Tidal playlist with a bunch of songs from 50 Cent, Rick Ross, A$AP Rocky, 2 Chainz, Trina, Drake, and Mobb Deep; put my bib on, and headed to the 90 Freeway.
Running on a freeway seems simple. No cars. No stop lights to disrupt your flow. Just you and the pavement. But running on the 90 Freeway was actually pretty challenging. The first mile or so was an uphill slope, and the L.A. sun was shining directly above us. At one point, it got so hot that I saw a few runners take their jackets and sweaters off.
By mile two, my left knee started actin’ up and I could hardly extend my leg. What if I pull something? I thought. My knee eventually loosened up, but the heat started to take its toll on me. I was so dehydrated that I thought I was going to faint, and I probably would’ve if it wasn’t for that water station (there were two stations throughout the course).
Halfway through the race, I was feeling much better. I’d come this far. At one point, I started hearing people cheer for other runners who were already on their way back. That bugged me out—how could they run that fast?—but it pushed me to keep going.
At mile five, I could almost see the finish line. Everything was going well until I started to feel pain in my left knee again. I almost stopped running but Meek Mill’s “I’m a Boss” came on and I caught a second wind, like the way a song could make you drive more recklessly. Once I hit the sixth mile, I just said fuck it and sprinted to the end.
Six weeks ago, I would have never thought I could run a 10K. But after hours of training and almost hurting my knee, not only did I finish the those 6.4 miles, I hit my goal of running under 10 minutes per mile. Who would’ve guessed?
