Rock ‘n’ Roll Savannah Half Marathon Race Report (aka Why I’ll Never Run a Rock ‘n’ Roll Event Again)

Posted on November 7, 2011 by KO

Seriously, y’all, I had heard that these huge events, in particular the Rock ‘n’ Roll branded ones, were kind of awful, but you never really know until you live it. As much as I love the city of Savannah, I don’t think they were ready for what to expect by bringing in some 23,000 runners (plus about double that number of spectators/family/friends) into their city for the weekend. The race was one big traffic jam after another, from getting to the expo to getting to the start line to running the course to getting back to the hotel. Incredible, incredible nonsense.

But let’s back up. B and I were trained and ready to go. There was only one thing left to do: get to the race. We left town on Friday morning, driving through the pretty country roads of rural Georgia, and made it to Savannah by about 4:00 PM Eastern time, in plenty of time, we thought, to get into the expo, check in and pick up our race bibs and timing chips, mill about and shop, and then go to dinner. We did not make it to our hotel until after 9:00, thanks to being stuck for about an hour on the Talmadge bridge, the only way to the little island where the expo was being held.

We were so frustrated with the traffic that we eventually decided to take turns going in — she drove in the traffic jam while I got out and walked in to the expo, then we’d switch (luckily we were able to meet up in there because she finally got parking). Needless to day, we did not have the time or energy or desire to spend a single dime inside the race expo.

Afterward, we faced more traffic jams around the hotel/mall part of town where we were staying, and were quoted an hour and fifteen minute wait at the restaurant. We ate at the bar instead of waiting for a proper table; we were so exhausted by this point.

The next morning, we headed to the mall parking lot at 6:00 AM to catch a shuttle to the start. Everyone whose hotel didn’t have its own race shuttle was there, too — thousands and thousands of runners in disorganized “lines” trying to catch a shuttle. It was 45 degrees, still dark, and eventually anarchy erupted as people began forming new lines to catch the busses as they pulled into the lots, diverting the busses before they could get to those of us waiting in the pre-existing “official” lines. We finally got on a shuttle at about 7:15 AM, just fifteen minutes before the race was set to begin.

By the time our bus got into town, the race had already begun, which meant most downtown roads were closed. Most bus drivers, brought in for the event from Florida, didn’t know their way around the city, and we could hear dispatch on the radio talking to one frantic driver, who said “I’ve got five busses following behind me and there are dozens more picking up runners at the mall. I don’t care if the roads are blocked, we have to get these runners to the start!” Apparently, busses taking in runners from Tybee island got lost along the way, too. It was chaos.

We got to the start after 8:00 AM, and were able to high-tail it over there in time to start with corral 25. We were supposed to be in corral 5. There would be no running with the 2:00 pace team, as they were long gone by now. We had completely missed all the runners who would be going at our predicted pace; instead we were with the walkers (and the other late arrivals from the mall shuttle busses).

The entire race was one big traffic jam. I never was able to run at my desired pace, instead having to weave my way through and around groups of people. The road was packed shoulder-to-shoulder, and there were countless groups of walkers and run/walkers going four or five abreast across the road, often slowing to a walk with no advance warning and completely oblivious to anyone trying to pass by them. I spent a lot of time running in the grass and on the sidewalk in my efforts to squeak by. I was miserable.

The first six miles took us through some ugly, industrial part of town that smelled like rancid fish (my description) or a bad perm (B’s description). It was inescapable. There were no spectators here, just the wall of flesh and smell.

At some point around the 10K mark, I managed to free myself of the concern for pace and time, and I just told myself I would run as well as I was able and just finish the damned race. I was envisioning a finish time around 2:20 at this point, far from my goal of somewhere between 2:00-2:07. I wasn’t in control of my pace, so why worry about it?

Around mile 7 or so we cut back into the historic district — the pretty part of Savannah with old lovely houses and live oaks and Spanish moss. The only part I really know. Here there were TONS of great spectators. I collected more than my fair share of high-fives from the folks on the left side of the road, enjoyed the signs, and appreciated the surroundings. My mood really lightened up here and it was a relief.

After this I just kept trucking on ahead, thinking that at least if I was running at my normal slow-run training pace (9:30-9:45) instead of my goal race pace (9:09), maybe I wouldn’t be sore the next day. Silver lining, maybe. Around mile 10 my hip flexors and IT bands were getting a bit tight and sore — normally I’d take a stretch break on a training run if I felt tight like this, but that day I just wanted to be done.

At mile 11 I finally braved looking at my watch again, did some quick math, and figured out I could come close to my PR of 2:07:07, possibly beating it, if I kicked it into gear for the last two miles, which is what I tried to do. It was still really tough to make my way through the crowd. The half marathoners were kept to the right lane at this point, leaving the left lane for full marathoners whose mile 25-26 overlapped with our mile 12-13 of the course (the 2:45-3:00 marathon finishers, who started at 7:30 in the first corrals, would be coming up at this point, and fast as hell). I occasionally snuck just to the left of the cones to try to pass people, but I stayed out of the way of the speedy full marathoners and their bike escorts.

At one point, two women running in front of me came to a walk, and one threw out her arm to look at her watch, her elbow right in my face. As I nearly crashed right through them, I was so aggravated I literally made a loud, high-pitched “beep beep” sound, which I hope startled the shit out of Elbow Lady. Race etiquette was just not to be seen out there on Saturday.

At any rate, I managed to find my way through the crowd in the last few miles and I saw as I approached the finish line that I could eke out a PR of at least a few seconds. I tried to compose my face for a pleasant finish line photo, and then this happened:

Oh no she didn’t? OH YES SHE DID. This zebra/pink-mowhawk hat lady just busted right in between me and grey-shirt mom on my right there and practically pushed us down for her moment of finish line glory. Can you tell how effing appalled I was by my expression in the second photo? I hope you can.

My overall impression of the race was one of overcrowding and mishandling. This was the Savannah race’s inaugural year, and I know the city to be a lovely place. I know from what I read in their news coverage that they were really excited about the race and about bringing people into the city. The problem was that it was impossible to enjoy the city the night before (due to overcrowding, traffic, and just sheer frustration and exhaustion), and I don’t think a lot of people stuck around to see Savannah after the race, judging by how empty the historic district was that night. The race didn’t even really showcase the best parts of the city, going mostly through ugly industrial areas and random neighborhoods. The “pretty” part of town was only on display for a mile or two of the half marathon route, which surprised me.

At any rate, I met up with B at the finish line, we both celebrated our new PRs (even though we both missed our more ambitous targets, we still both improved, which is what counts), and got in the miles-long line for shuttles back to the mall.

Oh right. Yes, more waiting, more traffic. At least we got to wait in front of the famous Forsyth Park fountain, and then we caught a Savannah city trolley, driven by a local tour guide, instead of a school bus.

And really, all’s well that ends well. We celebrated with champagne and candy and then got dressed for a fun night. The historic district was quiet when we went out, we had no trouble getting seated at the restaurant of our choice, and then treated ourselves to fun cocktails and frozen yogurt afterward.

I may not have reached my more ambitious time goals, even though I think I’d have had a chance to if I’d started in the proper corral and/or found the 2:00 pace group. I DID, nonetheless, meet my non-time based goals: no injury, a wacky pedicure, champagne, a fun night on the town, and some quality time with my friend.

Final time: 2:06:30 – a whopping 37-second personal record.

As for what’s next? We are picking our next half marathon race, and this one’s gonna be small.

Asheville!

Posted on October 25, 2011 by KO

This past weekend was the now roughly annual get together of The Triumvirate, aka my group of BFFs from the college days. Last year, Claire and Mel and I wound up going to small-town Missouri on a work conference, but this year the trip was all pleasure and no business at all. Just the way I like it! Mel and her family recently moved to Asheville, NC, a lovely little mountain town that at this time of year is full of fall foliage and tourists and sunny-but-crisp weather. It was a lovely destination and not even too far away from where I live in Alabama.

I was excited to see Mel, especially because this time last year she was oh-so-very pregnant with her daughter, who is now about 10 months old and is cute as a button. As you can see. Her son is now nearly three, a fact which blows my mind. I guess when you only see people about once a year, this is what happens!

At any rate, C. drove to stay with me in Auburn for one night to break up the trip and then we both headed up to North Carolina together on Friday morning. Between my 12-mile run that morning, the 5-hour drive up to Asheville, and the long evening of cooking, drinking wine, and talking, it seemed like a super long (but lovely) day.

We headed into town Saturday for lunch and shopping, and the downtown area was positively bustling with tourists (and, I assume, locals, too, but fall foliage season = tourist season in NC). There were buskers on almost every street corner and the sidewalks were packed.

We ate at Laughing Seed, an all vegetarian/vegan cafe. I have to tell you, it is such a wonder for me to be able to eat at a vegetarian restaurant where I can choose anything I want from the menu. There wasn’t anything there that I couldn’t eat. At most places here in Auburn, there is usually either zero or one item on the menu. Usually you just take what you get and don’t complain. But in Asheville, in Asheville! I got to CHOOSE my meal. Amazing.

I had this vegan bahn mi, which was so motherloving delicious that I am still thinking about it. Claire had a veggie burger made with hemp and Mel had a tempeh Reuben sandwich, and we all tried each other’s food. It was all awesome. I was in love with Asheville already, and no, that wasn’t just the local brews talking.

A trip to Malaprops, a local bookstore, and then to French Broad Chocolate lounge for truffles only cemented my joy.

Books. Vegan truffles. Good lord.

That night, Mel had suggested we try a new restaurant called Plant, that was completely vegan — no animal products whatsoever. I am lucky to have friends who are game to try things like this with me, because it really is so rare that I get to eat at restaurants like this.

This pinot noir was described on the menu as being light, haunting, and “like a zephyr.” Obviously we had to order a bottle.

We tried a little of everything, from the cheese plate (house made cashew cheese that — unlike any vegan cheese in a store — actually tasted great), to the entrees, to the desserts. To the brut. Of course the brut.

It felt like a truly indulgent day, not only to be eating and drinking like kings (DAMN HELL ASS KINGS), but to be spending the day with my two best friends, doing whatever we pleased, and just enjoying each other’s company.

Asheville, let’s do this again some time.

Mad [Wo]men in Atlanta

Posted on October 25, 2011 by KO

For some reason, October is always a month full of travel and busyness. The middle of the semester brings a lot of work, and then there tend to be lots of social events going on, too. I feel like I have so much to catch up on, so I’m going to back up a little bit and tell you about my recent trip to Atlanta to celebrate my friend D’s birthday.

She is a stylish lady who happens to be a big fan of classic movies, cocktails, and good fashion, so she had a Mad Men themed party and we all dressed up in glamorous early sixties clothes and mixed up Manhattans, Martinis, and so on. As you might imagine, the prospect of glamming myself up Betty-Draper style, teasing my hair, drinking whiskey, and celebrating my good friend’s birthday delighted me to no end.

I brought a bottle of Canadian Club whiskey, just like Don Draper drinks, and I think in my excitement I perhaps had a little too much (if my making it home with one fewer earring than I’d left the house with is any indication). I might have over-imbibed, but isn’t that in keeping with the style of Sterling Cooper [Draper Pryce]? I submit to you that it is. You just can’t get ahead on Madison Avenue unless you’re prepared to knock back a few in the office with the rest of the creative team. Just ask Duck Phillips.

Anyway.

Here are a few snaps I took that night:

And a couple I totally stole from the birthday girl’s flickr (these get the atmosphere better):

It was a really fun occasion, and was (as all great parties are) made even greater with the consumption of a big, potato-based breakfast at Ria’s Bluebird Diner. That place is wonderful, and has tons of vegetarian/vegan options!

Great weekend out of town with the ladies! Thanks, D., for hosting such a fun night!

Catching Up

Posted on May 16, 2011 by Kate

I feel quite certain I had a thousand things to catch you all up on, readers, but — having been gone so long — I can now barely remember what they all were. Let’s settle for talking about the highlights, if that’s okay with you.

The Decemberists, one of my all-time favorite bands, had the bad timing to come play in Atlanta during our finals week and on the day of my friend Clarabella’s prespectus defense. Did we let this timing issue stop us from seeing them live and in concert? Of course not. Don’t be silly. Although we both would have preferred a leisurely few days in Atlanta to hang sound, shop, eat, and celebrate our good news (my work thing — more soon — and her having passed the defense), we had to make it the quickest trip ever. The show was wonderful, though, and well worth making the effort to be there.

We were in a huge concert hall in the city with seats up in the nosebleed section — quite different from the smaller, more dive-like venue where we saw them on their amazing Hazards of Love tour (that album is still my favorite of theirs, hands down). It was odd seeing them in such a formal venue and to spend the whole time on our butts in our balcony seats, but they sounded amazing and I was able to get some decent photographs with a 55-200mm lens I borrowed from Brunbec. Love this band.

After the end of final exams and grading at school, I skipped town for a few days of fun visiting Clarabella & Family in Mississippi. We needed some time to actually hang out, after all! We had big plans that included watching her four-year-old son play T-ball, lounging around, sipping adult beverages, and — oh yeah! — finally getting the literary tattoos of our dreams. You’ll have to wait to hear more about that because it deserves its own post.

At any rate, here are some of the best photographs of the weekend:

More to come soon on the tattoo, and more probably later this summer on the work developments. For now, I am going to sit back in this coffee shop with this latte and enjoy one of the last free afternoons I’ll have for a while. School starts for summer term on Thursday (can you believe it?!) and it will be back to work for me once more.

My Adventures as a Half-Marathon Spectathlete

Posted on April 14, 2011 by Kate

It’s Thursday night and I finally have a few minutes to sit down and write about this past weekend’s amazing trip to St. Louis! Let’s just say I am not one of those bloggers who can update every day even while traveling. Props to you, daily bloggers.

Anyway, did you know I was in St. Louis last weekend? Well, I was. The gateway city! The jumping off point for explorers setting out on the Oregon trail! I had driven through St. Louis a few times before (on my own Oregon trail, so to speak — cross-country road trips are both a family tradition and something I’ve done alone before and I love doing it), but had never spent any real time there before.

This trip was all about racing. My friend B. had spent spring semester training for her very first half marathon race and was signed up to compete in the Go! St. Louis Marathon and Half. We have run several races together (5K and 10K distance) and she has accompanied me to both of my half marathons as well as my full marathon, where she cheered me on at the finish, took pictures, carried my stuff, and was over all a super race sherpa. Nowadays, we are both experts in the racing and spectating scene, but this was the first time where I was playing the role of sherpa and spectathlete instead of racing for myself. But more on that in a minute.

The weekend started out with a night in Atlanta at the home of our friend D., who graciously offered us a place to sleep before our early-morning flight and also took care of Egon the Dog while we were gone. (Thanks, D!) On Saturday morning, we were up early and off on our short flight to Missouri.

This was the first time I have flown since before I began my big weight loss effort and SWEET FANCY MOSES, what a sigh of relief I breathed when I realized how easily and comfortably I could fit in the seat, move around, cross my legs, and everything. I will never complain about flying coach again — for me it felt like first class! Well, I mean, except for the fact that first class flyers get free champagne and whatnot. But I digress.

Anyway, we got to STL so early that we had the whole day to explore the city, eat, relax, nap, and, of course, carbo load for the next morning’s race. Although I wasn’t racing 13.1 miles myself, I (rightly) predicted that my role as a spectathlete would be challenging enough to warrant eating as if I were racing. Hey, I am allowed a few indulgences every now and then, especially when I am visiting a city that boasts an actual vegan bakery!

We visited Sweet Art on the recommendation of B’s local friends and it was well worth it. They offer vegan cupcakes and brownies as well as vegan/vegetarian lunches and so on. If you are ever in St. Louis you should most definitely give the brownies a try. Amazing. And you’ll have to trust me because I ate that sucker with not a single thought of documenting it photographically.

Our pre-race day in the city was lovely and we both caught up on sleep — then, on race morning, it was GAME ON. We were up early once again, B. was suited up and ready to run, and we took the city’s MetroLink train in to the race start. It was packed shoulder to shoulder with runners, so we knew we were in the right place.

As the sun came up, with the famous Gateway Arch in the background, over 17,000 runners made their way into the starting corrals, ready to race either 13.1 or 26.2 miles on a very warm April morning. At the moment I took this picture, it had already reached 70 degrees before the streetlights had even turned off for the day.

I waited around with B. while she got prepared to take off on her 13.1 mile adventure, snapped a pre-race photo, walked her to her starting corral, and then fought my way through the crowds to try to find a place near the starting line to watch the runners take off.

I was crammed into a crowd of folks behind a chain link fence about 10 yards past the start line, which was a perfect spot to observe the elite runners jogging and doing pick-ups prior to start-time. It was funny to hear the older ladies around me try to figure out what they were doing as they each sprinted out about 50 yards and then walked back to the start over and over again. Even though I knew what they were doing in their warmups, I had never been at this kind of vantage point at a race before and found it fun to watch.

Once the Marines displayed the flag and the national anthem was sung, I watched as the fastest, wiriest runners came up to toe the line. There was no denying that these athletes at the front of the group had come to compete. They were chatty at first, working out their pre-race energy with some leg swings and knee bends and whatnot, but as the start approached, I saw tension and determination in each and every face at the line. Even my heart was racing there on the sidelines.

It took about 15-20 minutes after the start before I finally saw B. cross the line. I missed snapping her photo there because I wasn’t quite ready, so I focused on working my way over to mile six, my next spectating vantage point.

By the time I got there, it was about 25 minutes after the starting gun and the race leaders were about to pass by — just moments after I had left the start line! Yes, these elites are running at a 5:00 mile pace. No big deal.

I hung around until the crowds came through, carrying B. among them. I cheered and screamed, snapped photos, and collected the sweaty headband that had been driving her crazy for the past six miles. See, spectating is an important job, y’all. I am here for your headband disposal needs!

After leaving mile six, I was off to the finish line. I got there in time to catch everyone who finished between about 1:35-2:35. Yes, I spent an hour watching runners cross the line and I never got bored once. In fact, this was one of the most interesting, intense, and inspiring sporting experiences I have ever had.

When I first got to the line, I somehow accidentally wound up in a medical volunteer area. Before I figured it out and was asked to move, I had a really intimate view of runners crossing the finish line. I saw dozens of super-fit, super-fast 1:35 half marathon finishers cross the line. One young guy powered across looking so strong and determined, and then I watched as he struggled to tear off his sweaty shirt, then bent over and squeezed his quads, looking back up with a wide-eyed expression of exhaustion and confusion. I knew he had left everything he had out on the race course and was completely wrung out at the end.

During the hour that I continued to watch and cheer for finishers, I saw people sprint, dance, jog, cruise, limp, stagger, and be carried across that line. Four runners I saw were in a state of collapse or near collapse. I watched as one young girl stood in the middle of the road with her arms around a volunteer’s neck, legs buckling. Two medical team members came and supported her, one on each side, and walked her across the line as her noodle-legs and cement-feet dragged underneath her. It took maybe two or three minutes for them to cover 15-20 yards. The crowd was screaming, SCREAMING her across the line. Once she crossed, we all fell silent and watched as the medical team laid her gently on the ground and tended to her. I had goosebumps and tears at the same time. Shit was intense, you know?

It was really, really hot out that day — for April in St. Louis. B.’s local friends told us it had been chilly and cold during all the weeks leading up to the race. Local runners were probably training in tights and long sleeves or they were inside on treadmills. They probably had no chance to get at all acclimated to running in the heat. Writing just from my own experience, it takes several runs out in the heat when the weather first warms up to get used to hotter temperatures. These runners just weren’t ready to be out there in the surprising heat that day. B. had no trouble with the weather — training in the hills and heat of Alabama sucks sometimes, but when it comes to racing, it has its advantages for sure.

Watching so many runners struggling at the finish due to heat exhaustion, I was a little worried for my friend out there on the course. I hoped she would take it easy, especially as it was her first race. She had told me to expect her in with a finish time of around 2:45. She really wanted to finish in under 3:00, she said. Imagine my surprise when I saw her FLYING up to the finish at just past 2:30!

Holy crap! She blew her predicted time away, and finished so strong, even passing girls around her in the last few yards. Amazing. Afterward, she told me that while miles 7-9 had been really tough, miles 10-13 were some of the best miles of the race! As someone who always blows it up too fast, I need to learn her secret to finishing strong.

I so, so enjoyed the chance to be there at the finish, cheering and taking pictures for my friend. Racing is usually all about me. I’m so focused on my own experience, my own training, my own race. Spectating at this race gave me the chance to really see it with others in mind. Mostly my attention was on my friend and my concern was with her experience, but in watching the other runners I got a first-time chance to see the unique experience each runner has as he or she competes. Watching the strides and behaviors and expressions that varied from runner to runner as I saw hundreds of competitors cross the finish line of their race, I was blown away. Inspired and moved.

After a super-succesful race, we of course had to celebrate! First, some lounging, stretching, and rehydrating in the park, then a leisurely lunch and refueling mission. We found a cozy, relaxing sidewalk cafe serving absolutely gigantic glasses of wine and spent most of the afternoon there, reveling in the post-race excitement. After a fancy sushi dinner and a too-brief night of sleep, we were up at the crack of dawn to head back to the south.

A whirlwind weekend and a surprisingly incredible experience as a first-time marathon spectathlete. Big thanks to B. for making me a part of her race weekend! I’m now more inspired than ever to choose my next race event.