Donut Day Dash 5K -- We Came, We Saw, We Devoured 12 Donuts ...

They said it simply couldn't be done. They said the feat shouldn't even be attempted. They said the world would have no appetite for such a stunt. Well, whoever they were (and they could just have been the voices in our head) -- they were WRONG.  

Hatched from run-addled minds less than a week ago, the Inaugural Sole Sister Donut Day Dash 5K came to fruition on National Donut Day, June 7, 2013, at Woodland Park in Perrysburg, Ohio. The challenge: Complete a 5K while stopping to eat an entire glazed doughnut every half mile, with water being available at each doughnut station to wash it down. (Milk was vetoed early, and coffee would just be too hot.) 

The day began at 7:50 a.m., with Sole Sister M stopping at V's house with the dozen doughnnuts, procured from a nearby Tim Hortons. The cashier had asked M brightly, "So, are you taking the doughnuts into the office for National Donut Day?" In response to which M smiled and said, "Well, no. We're going to run and eat doughnuts -- six of them -- while dressed up like loons at a park in a made-up two-person race that has no prizes, no medals, no T-shirts, and no spectators." The cashier then took her money, turned away slowly, and was heard to mumble something like "crazy runners ... waste of good doughnuts ... what's wrong with people ..." 

At the house, we divvied up the glazed bounty into three containers, to be strategically placed along the route. Then, we pinned on our race bibs (recycled from past 5Ks -- we thought having numbers might help us look more organized, and possibly less crazy) and donned our chosen chapeaux -- a giant foam hotdog hat for M and a sparkly pink pig cap for V. 

"You look like a pig viking," M said. 
"Excellent. I know what I'll go as for Halloween, " I replied. 

Doughnuts in tow, we made our way to the park, which was pretty much empty, except for a pair of "serious" looking runners and a couple walking the crushed-limestone perimeter. With our cell phone cameras ready to record the adventure, we trotted out a warm-up mile just to place the doughuts at the stations. We had Home Base, Station 1, and Station 2. The park started getting a little more crowded at this point (it was just past 8 a.m.), and the looks we garnered registered emotions ranging from confused to quizzical.  A cheering section of sorts assembled in the playground area -- as M ran past the swings, a young voice rang out "HOT DOG! I LOVE HOT DOGS!" And so we'd cheer along with her, to encourage her enthusiasm -- we had a feeling we'd need it by the final doughnut. 

 With the stations all set up, it was go time. Earlier, M had said she was going to really run the race hard; I had thought up a strategy that involved grabbing the doughnut, ripping it in two, and eating it on the run to save time. When push came to shove, however, we just decided to wing it. 

We dashed for the doughnuts, and the first bites were pure, sugary bliss.  It was alarming just how quickly we could down two glazed lardbombs. One set down the hatch, water sipped, and we were on the move. "HOT DOG! GO HOT DOG!" our young friend shouted. "WOOOOO!" we replied, practically skipping after the initial sugar rush hit our bloodstreams.  

"It's Donut Day! It's Donut Day," we gleefully squealed, gravel crunching underfoot like so many sprinkles on an iced cake ring. We got some thumbs up; we got some questioning glances. Yes, at this point, and even through about Doughnut Three, it was all good times. 

Ooof. And then, somewhere around Doughnut Four, the sweet treats started to stage a revolt. What had been, mere minutes before, a celebration of all that was fun and fluffy in life started to turn into a reminder that no matter how fast you try to go, you just can't outrun the weight of gluttony.  

"My fingers are all sticky -- can you pour some water on my hands?" M asked at Doughnut Five. "I feel so heavy. You could use what's in my stomach to stucco a house," I replied. And, the burping. Oh, the burping that one does after scarfing down five doughnuts is comical, crude, and absolutely necessary if you are going to be doing anything except lying on a couch somewhere. 

And then, we were down to the final challenge -- Doughnut Six awaited at Home Base. We mustered what was left of our strength (our dignity having been left at the start line), and ambled toward the picnic bench. "This is the worst station," M intoned. "I don't think I can finish this one," I replied.

"I feel sooo heavy right now ..."

"Please, tell me we're almost done..."

But, we are runners. We run through rain, we run through pain, we run through mental anguish, and by God, we were going to run through a dozen doughnuts. Why? Because we said we would, and part of being a runner is setting goals that you accomplish just for yourself. Even if they seem unattainable, or even quite ridiculous, as in this case. So, after choking down the last few bites, humming impromptu and off-key renditions of the "Rocky" theme song and "Eye of the Tiger," we celebrated National Donut Day and eating a half-dozen doughnuts apiece by ... running one more mile, doughnut-free. 

We've pretty much pledged that we don't want to see, smell, or taste another doughnut for at least six months, if not until NEXT Donut Day. 

And in case you're wondering, that whole run, which ended up being a 4 miler, took 42:35.58. Our average pace, including eating, drinking, and photography time, was about a 10:38 minute mile. The splits were: mile 1 -- 9:00, mile 2 -- 11:02, mile 3 -- 14:00, mile 4 --8:31

And: Here's how that last doughnut stop went down: 

Thank you all for tuning in to the Inaugural Donut Day 5K! 

-- The Sole Sisters 

P.S.  The Streak lives on ...