Ten years ago I showed up to the Flying Pig for the first time. I came because of a theme. Oinked for Life. A tattooed biker pig. I was in before I finished reading the description.
I had no idea I was starting something that would still be part of my life a decade later. This year I went back to mark that anniversary. I signed up for the 3-Way with Extra Cheese; the 1-mile Friday night, followed by the 5k and 10k Saturday morning. The plan was to add the half marathon Sunday and complete the full 3 way. That’s not how it ended. And honestly, that ending is the whole story.
Friday Night
The day started sideways. A delayed optometrist appointment, traffic, a wrong turn to the wrong First Financial Center, and a lost phone I had to jog back to find. By the time I got to the start line for the 50 West mile, I’d already had a full day. Then I ran an 11:35 mile. I was expecting somewhere around 12:30 to 13 minutes based on where my training had been. That mile told me something. I’m coming back.
Saturday Morning
38 degrees at the start. Cold enough that standing around after the 10k in wet clothes was genuinely miserable. But the running itself felt strong. I ran the 10k using a Galloway method of 30 seconds on, 15 seconds off and held that through the bridges and the hills, all the way to just before mile 5. Finished in 1:32:00. Then walked straight to the back of the 5k corral and started again.
By mile 2.5 of the 5k, I had nothing left. I was ready to walk it in. Then a man ran up beside me and told me he’d been following me. That I was his inspiration. That he was going to follow me to the finish. I couldn’t stop after that. I had maybe half a mile left and no leg strength to speak of. I prayed my way through it. I believe God put that man exactly where I needed him, because I needed him just as much as he needed me. We both made it to the finish line. By the time Saturday was done, between racing and walking around the city, I had just under 17 miles on my legs.
Sunday Morning
I didn’t start. My knees were buckling Saturday. I could feel the familiar hip weakness that cost me most of 2024 and part of 2025. I knew my body. I knew if I pushed through, I wasn’t just risking Sunday. I was risking my fall marathon. I was risking weeks with my family. Dean Karnazes says DNF means did nothing fatal. Sometimes a DNS carries the same wisdom. Knowing when to stop is a skill. It took me years to learn it. Sunday morning I used it.
What 10 Years Looks Like
I came to the Flying Pig in 2016 because I liked a mascot. I keep coming back because of what this race does for people. The city shows up. The volunteers show up. Strangers cheer like they know you. There’s a race for every kind of runner; from the kids finishing their last mile downtown to the Flying Fur where your dog gets a medal too. It’s one of the few race weekends where back of the pack feels just as celebrated as the front. That matters more to me now than any finish time ever could. I’m already planning 2027.
For the full story,
the wrong convention center, the lost phone, the man at mile 2.5, and everything in between, listen to the bonus episode on Spotify. Or browse all the episodes at the podcast page.
And if any of this resonated with you, you don’t have to figure it out alone. If you’re ready to talk, head over to the services page and let’s see what makes sense for where you’re at.