100+ Thoughts While Doing the Cherry Blossom 5K

12 min readMay 18, 2024

A 5k is not a big deal for many people, but it is for me. When I lived in Arizona, I got obsessed with them. I pretty much did one every weekend (taking a break during the 115-degree summer, of course). I loved the sensation of completion when I crossed the finish line. I loved the cheering of people along the course. And, without a doubt, my favorite part was the medal at the end. I liked how the heavy metal felt in my hand (even though sometimes it was plastic) — and how it felt wrapped around my neck. I had a vast collection of medals over the years — maybe one hundred. It was a bit wild. When packing to move across the country, I didn’t know what to do with them anymore. They were different shapes, colors, and themes. I ended up using them for a creative writing prompt in one of my workshops.

When I moved to Maryland (D.C. area), I needed to figure out what to do with myself because of the lack of nearby 5ks. I soon learned about the existing ones and registered — even though they were far away. Then, the pandemic happened and brought a wave of anxiety about being around people. As soon as the 5k races came back, I registered, but my anxiety took the best of me and didn’t even let me drive to the metro, let alone be around hundreds of people unmasked. Last year, I conquered my fear and completed my first 5k after the pandemic during the Rock ’n’ Roll running series in Washington, DC. I cried a little while walking/jogging and was so proud of myself for letting me feel the rush of emotions that the races brought me.

This year, the Credit Union Cherry Blossom 5k was my second one here in D.C., and I added a layer of emotion to it — I documented my feelings while walking/jogging, so here they are:

Thank goodness the race is after 9 am, when the metro has been open for the last two hours on a Saturday. I’m on time for once!
The metro behaved so well! No constructions and delays.
I need to use the bathroom early in the morning. Are the porta potties going to be clean?
The Freedom Plaza is full of people!
Why is the bib line so long? Oh wait, it goes by fast.

6. Thank you, organizadores, for having XXL t-shirts for women. In my last race, they only had XL t-shirts for women, and they were smaller than XL t-shirts. What were they thinking? That big women can’t run? Pffff.

7. Would my brother wear a pink T-shirt? He loves 5k t-shirts.

8. I need a porta-potty now! Why is the line so long?

9. Why didn’t the person before me, who obviously did number two, cover her poop? Or his or their? Thank God there is a ton of toilet paper.

10. Don’t breathe, don’t breathe.

11. There’s a mirror in the porta-potty. Do people really come here to fix their hair or see their faces?

12. Why am I writing in a porta-potty? Get out of here, Ofe!

13. My friends are here! They look non-sporty dressed and are drinking coffee! It is amazing that they came to support their mom. They might smell my showering on hand sanitizer.

14. Oh, look, a man dressed like STUMPY!! Why does he look like a stool?

15. That Stumpy Man is moving too fast. It’s already gone, and I couldn’t take a proper selfie with the right angle.

16. Where should I stand to wait for the race to start?

17. Runners hold little signs with their pace. What is my pace? I know it is not 8 minutes per mile.

18. Not 9

19. Not 10

20. Not 11

21. Keep going to the back, Ofe. All the way to the back!

22. How do you even enter the corrals?

23. Do people still call it corrals?

24. It’s 9:15 now. Let’s do this!

25. Yeah, I won’t cross the line at 9:15 am. Faster runners go first.

26. There is a stampede of people here. A couple of young women talk about how these races are measured in kilometers instead of miles. Interesting.

27. Is it wrong to eavesdrop on conversations?

28. Everyone here looks like a serious runner. They are wearing fewer layers than me.

29. They are stretching; maybe I should stretch, too.

30. I can’t stretch with so many people around me.

31. These runners look like they will yell “move” if I go too slow.

32. It’s time to go all the way to the right. I move around the crammed corral.

33. One runner is wearing a silver disposable blanket. Underneath, she is wearing tight shorts and a tank top. She must be freezing.

34. Am I the only one with a bag strapped to her back?

35. Everyone is free — back free.

36. Two runners have their phones strapped to their arms. One is pursing her lips while placing her arm behind her back. The other is bobbing his head, chewing gum.

37. We take baby steps to the start line. Some yelling is happening with excitement. Oh wait, that’s me!

38. The start line is getting closer.

39. I just high-fived six ladies.

40. I’m now jumping a bit as we walk toward the start line.

41. Stop jumping, Ofe. No injuries allowed.

42. We are getting closer and closer. The music is getting into my veins. I don’t know the song, but in my head, “HandClap” by Fitz and the Tantrums is playing. This song was common back when I did 5ks in Arizona.

43. Oh gosh, what if I trip? No one around me can carry me. They are all really thin.

44. It’s time to start recording; the start line is two feet away from me.

45. Should I pretend to run at the beginning or start walking?

46. One foot left.

47. Okay, I’m pretending to run.

48. I just crossed the start line.

49. Oh, my goodness. I didn’t train for this.

50. My bag in the back is bouncing a lot. I can hear the Pepto pills rattling.

51. Clothes and silver thingies/blankets are all over the floor.

52. It has been three minutes after the start line.

53. Okay, I’m walking now.

54. The fast runners are crossing the finish line on the other side! It’s only been four minutes.

55. Runners are passing me on the left.

56. I’m not running, but I’m brisk walking.

57. Maybe next year I will run run. Not just walk and pretend to jog.

58. Hello, wind. Why is it still so cold in April?

59. Thank you, sun, for existing — sunglasses time.

60. More runners pass me. I stay on the right side. Some are wearing colorful tutus. I need a pink tutu in my life. Or a purple one like when I was a ballerina when I was four. Oh, yeah, I wrote about that in one essay. I still need someone to publish that essay.

61. Oh gosh, that is the Capitol. No resurrection is happening right now.

62. People on the sidewalks are screaming people’s names. Some are excited to see their friends running.

63. I miss my Arizona friends.

64. I’m so far away from home.

65. Who would have thought I’d be doing a 5k in Washington, D.C.? And this is my second one this year.

66. I didn’t imagine this as a child. In first grade, I thought the capital of the United States was New York, so… yeah, I never pictured myself doing this.

67. I should have trained for this.

68. Other supportive people on the side have signs.

69. A lady just passed by me waving a Palestine flag.

70. People around me are defying gravity when they run. They are floating. They are barely touching the floor. That must be so cool.

71. Others who pass by me running are talking to their friends — effortless. They are not even sweating.

72. A girl is wearing all black on the side, watching the runners. She looks like Wednesday Adams. She is chewing gum while watching us. She just noticed me watching her watching us.

73. Strollers are now passing me. That means the flow of people is almost over.

74. I need to hurry up. I can’t be the last one.

75. People behind me say that they are bleeding — from a scab. Before I know more about it, they are gone because they are running.

76. Oh, race photographers! Pretend you are running, Ofe!

77. Pretending I’m running is now over.

78. 1 mile done. Yay!

79. A kid tells his mom, “Mom, look at my wrists.”

80. A man tells another, “I love my mustache.” His friend responds, “Don’t say that with your confederate general look.”

81. The wind is whistling, but it feels nice now. Gotta remove one of my jackets.

82. A group of people are playing drums. They are dressed in red-white-black clothing.

83. Oh, look, tulips. So beautiful. There are so many colors — -pink, red, whiteish. Tulip photo session time.

84. Is that Elizabeth Acevedo? Yes, she is. She is walking with her husband and baby.

85. “LIZ!!!!!!!” I’m screaming. Okay, she is looking at me now.

86. The only real running I’m doing is toward Liz Acevedo.

87. Hugs hugs. That was such a remarkable coincidence. I love Liz. She is an amazing writer and human being.

88. People are waiting to enter the airplane museum (Smithsonian National Air and Space museum), and some are looking at us. Isn’t it a bit early to be in a museum?

89. I wave at them. Oh, never mind, they are not really looking.

90. The last time I was in that museum, I was with my parents, brothers, and nephews. I packed some sandwiches for lunch. As soon as we entered the museum, we looked for the cafeteria, but it was under construction. So, we made a tendidito on the floor and ate cross-legged on the floor. Other families followed suit. Minutes later, a guard came to move us. The good time was when we were done eating. My mom was in a wheelchair. This was one of the last trips she did. Perhaps, one day, we’ll go somewhere else together. At least to get ice cream in Obregon.

91. It’s time to turn around. We are halfway, baby!

92. I now see people on the other side — Walkers, like me. I’m not the last one.

93. Water station time. There are porta-patties nearby just in case.

94. People are eager to give me cups of water. Thank you for being here, volunteers. You are awesome.

95. Hundreds of cups on the floor. Running with the wind. They sound like little drums when they crawl on the concrete.

96. Okay, my nose is liberating snot. Watery mocos.

97. A walker lady is rushing to take a photo with the only cherry blossom tree on the course route. The lady has cherry blossom antennas on her head and is waving a Palestinian flag.

98. A person is coughing behind me. Oh gosh, I didn’t bring a mask!

99. A person behind me says she loves hot dogs. Her friend says he likes the bun.

100. Volunteers are carrying arrows. One says, “You have a mile left.” The other one corrects her, “Don’t lie to people. It’s like a mile and a half.”

101. The wind again! My face is frozen. My hair is all over my face.

102. I’m passing by The National Botanic Garden.

103. There are no more people on the other side. I’m no longer all the way on the right side, so people don’t yell at me. I can walk anywhere I want.

104. Hello, Capitol again!

105. A volunteer says over a bullhorn, “You are stronger than this wind.”

106. The Washington Monument is to the left. One day, I want to go all the way to the top. I just hope it doesn’t get attacked like in that Spider-Man movie with Tom Holland.

107. Oh no! My phone has 20% battery left and is probably overstimulated with so many pictures. All this writing is hurting my phone and my fingers a little bit.

108. Thank God for the charger inside the giant bag on my back.

109. An older adult with a cane is faster than me. He just passed me. I need to hurry up.

110. Another volunteer with brown leather gloves high-fived me.

111. I’m passing by the National Gallery of Art, where I have spent hours and hours looking at Degas’s ballerinas to write that essay that has yet to be published. This is where I came with my sister and looked at the impressionists. Fleeting memories make me smile.

112. I’m on Pennsylvania Avenue, pretending to run for the camera with the wind ruffling my hair.

113. “I love your pink bow,” says the person next to the photographer, waving a small Palestine flag.

114. I’m passing by the National Archives now. I came here with my family, too. They let us pass through a VIP entrance because my mom was in a wheelchair. I still remember trying to look at the Constitution through the glass. We couldn’t see anything.

115. Wind! A lot of wind. It hurts my face. I shelter half of my face from the wind by covering it with a jacket.

116. Not a lot of people are behind me. Even the walkers are passing me.

117. I can see the finish line. I speed up.

118. I’m passing the three-mile spot sign.

119. I’m so proud of myself. No anxiety. Just joy.

120. Volunteers in long-sleeved blue shirts and yellow vests share half of a sandwich.

121. Oh, look, Fogo de Chão. Oh, is it open for brunch?

122. My friend Chris and his mother-in-law cheer me on near the finish line. I run towards them instead of the finishing line. Nick’s mom reminds me of my mom. I hug her. I wish she could still run — that she could still freely walk.

123. They are giving me strength.

124. I’m running to the finishing line. I got this.

125. I just crossed it! Yes! I did it!

126. Where is my medal?

127. Oh, I have to go somewhere else to get it!