Saturday was a good day.

No, it was a great day. (It had to have been, because it takes a lot for me to ask a friend to take a photo of me in the sweaty, grungy state I was in, and then to post that photo here for you.)

Before I left home on Friday, my mom told me to email them when I finished. I think she was concerned about me finishing.

“You don’t have to run, you know. It’s OK to walk,” she told me. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack.”

“Mom, I have been running in preparation for the event. I can do this,” I told her laughingly.

The morning started off a little bit stressful, since Molly and I didn’t get the timeliest of starts and found ourselves waylaid by road construction and then caught up in the piles of cars all trying to get to the Fargodome for the event.

Molly, who was running the half-marathon, needed to be there for the start at 8, and it was getting close to that time. We weren’t going to get there with much of an opportunity for her to decompress and get prepared. We parked in the lot of the Fargo Air Museum, dashed across the street, and I promptly lost her in the massive crowd.

I do mean massive. Solid humanity, everywhere I looked.

I started to look for Anna and her mom; Ann was on “team Lone Prairie” and was there to run the 5K with me. The masses of people, however, was crushing and made it impossible to pick her out. After looking for her for a while, I figured I’d just have to meet her at the end of the run and do this by myself.

The marathoners went first, then the half-marathoners. Slowly the crowd moved forward as the start began, loud music and announcers and Sen. Kent Conrad waving from a platform. I found myself in the mass of other 5K runners moving forward into place to start running behind the half-marathoners, and decided I’d just stop trying to find Anna and get set to run on my own.

The start was quite different from me running alone on an empty road. There were walkers and people pushing strollers, and movement of all speeds. For the first mile I spent a good deal of time dodging in and out of the walkers and trying to find a way not to get caught up in some kind of traffic jam of participants.

It was a blast. It went by fairly quickly, it seemed.

The strangest things encouraged me as I ran those few 3.1 miles: the different body types and ages and how absolutely ANYONE could do the 5K either walking or running; Jared (the Subway guy who, according to my friend Lew, “sure get famous for just going on a diet” — Subway was one of the many sponsors), who was standing on the curb and cheering on the runners; the silly mascots in costume (Little Caesar’s and a Buffalo from a restaurant); the cheering and screaming people encouraging the runners, waving signs, and making all kinds of noise; the little kid banging on pots and pans and hollering “go!”; and the people blasting music from their driveways just to keep things up-temp.

The spectators are really a huge part of it.

I kept my steady, sl0w, slow pace, picked out another runner who was right around that same speed, and kind of used her as a pacer right up to near the end.

And…I finished. I was given a little medal, turned in the chip on my shoe that told me my time, grabbed a bottle of water and a banana, and waited around on the floor of the dome.

I had a great time, and my only two goals were: 1) finish 2) finish before any half-marathoners came in.

I met both goals, but the second one…barely. About five minutes after I crossed the finish line, one of the runners from Kenya, Sammy Malakwen, came flying into the dome, sprinting and putting my running to shame. It was amazing to watch him come running down the ramp and into the dome on the huge jumbotron screen. 13.1 miles in the time it took me to run three!

Later, as I was out front waiting for Molly and my other friend, Lance (they were running the half together), the winner of the half was standing near where Anna and I were. I started talking to him, and congratulated him on his win. He was really nice, and Anna and I must have talked to him for over 20 minutes. (Of course, he gets bonus points for asking if Anna and I were in high school or college, which clearly, we’re not.)

After Molly and Lance came running by us at the front of the dome, we said goodbye to Sammy, our new friend. Anna, using her cell phone, took a photo of me with him (as you see here) and then we went inside. I later ran into him again, inside the dome, and he asked me to send the photo to him. He is really a very pleasant person and it was interesting to hear him speak about how impressed he was at the variety of ages of the runners. There were quite a few runners in their 60′s and up, and he said that that is something you would not see in Kenya. He also talked about his running and how much he trains.

The vibe inside the dome was amazing, a kind of dull roar of noise and triumph and rushing endorphins. It was cheering mixed with the noise of the announcer and all the music and the food and the booths on the floor of the dome. Thousands of bodies, pressing against each other, filing by the free food tables, wearing medals. Hollering when the winners of the marathon crossed the line. The runners who ran for charity or competed in special wheelchairs or, even, a man pushing his friend on a kind of stretcher who had had a stroke. It made me happy.

It was a really fabulous morning. The weather had cooperated until later in the afternoon, when the wind started to pick up, but all in all: wow.

There were moments I felt a little silly for being so darn proud of my three miles when people were rushing in after whizzing through 13 and 26, but in the end, I’m pretty happy about it. I ran it. I didn’t stop. I finished. I got a medal. I had fun. I met some new people. I felt like I was a part of something.

Running with people is fun.

It takes a lot for me to say that, since I don’t generally like being around great quantities of people, or people in general.

It is so much different than running by myself down the gravelly, hilly roads. I definitely want to do it next year even though I still have to say: I hate running. But I loved the event and can only say it was positive all the way around.