SLC 5K 2025

On Saturday, I laced up my running shoes and participated in the SLC 5K. It was my first race in a couple of years — and honestly, getting to that starting line felt like a win in itself.

Recently, I took over a year off from running. As I’ve gotten older, I've found myself a little more injury-prone, and the constant cycle of training, tweaking something, resting, and rehabbing just wasn't sustainable anymore. So I pivoted. I spent the time focusing on strength training, HIIT workouts, and cycling instead. It was good for me, and I’m grateful I had that season. But as time passed, the itch to run never really went away.

When I started thinking about making a comeback, I knew I needed a new approach. I did some reading and stumbled across the case for slow running — the idea that spending a higher proportion of your miles at slower, controlled paces could actually unlock better performance and help reduce injury risk. It sounded almost too good to be true, but I figured it was worth a shot.

At the end of 2024, I started easing back into running. It wasn’t easy. Learning how to run slow — actually slow — was a real challenge for me. I had to teach myself to keep my heart rate in a lower zone and resist the urge to hammer every run. In the past, even my “easy” days were pretty intense. This slower, more methodical approach was new, but it also felt surprisingly good.

I decided to test things out by signing up for the SLC 5K. I found a 5K-specific training plan and started working through it in February, feeling optimistic.

Of course, the best-laid plans...well, you know how that goes.

In March, I had a minor surgery that kept me off my feet longer than I expected. Then we traveled to New York City — a trip I wouldn’t trade for anything — but somewhere along the way, I caught a cold that knocked me down for a while. And then there was Madeline’s sleep. Between March and April, her nights were...let’s call them adventurous. It’s been a season of interrupted sleep and low batteries.

The night before the race was a tough one. Poor Madeline had a rough, phlegmy cough and didn’t feel well at all. Alison and I were up and down all night trying to comfort her. When my alarm went off at 5am, I was absolutely wrecked. I turned to Alison and told her I was seriously debating whether it was even worth going. I didn’t feel ready. I didn’t feel strong. And I definitely didn’t feel rested.

But somewhere in the fog of tiredness, I made the decision to just show up.

I threw on my gear, walked to the Trax station in the chilly morning air, and headed downtown. As I stood at the starting line, I texted Alison a picture. 

When the timer went off, I set my watch to pace me for a 30-minute 5K — a realistic goal given the bumps along the way. To my surprise, I quickly found I was comfortably exceeding the pace. Halfway through the race, I still felt strong, even a little better than I expected. I decided to push. I ended up running my fastest mile at the end of the race, closing stronger than I started.

I crossed the finish line in 26:40 — a time I’m genuinely proud of. More importantly, it felt like a personal victory.

Not because it was the best race of my life. But because I showed up. Even when I didn’t feel ready. Even when I was tired. Even when the conditions weren’t perfect.

I’m taking a couple of weeks off to rest and recover, and then I’ll figure out what running adventure comes next. But for now, I’m just grateful to be back on the starting line.