Saturday, May 26, 2012

36th annual Ogden Newspapers 2012 Half-Marathon Classic


While much braver souls ran the 13.1 mile half marathon this morning, I opted for the 5K run through glorious downtown Wheeling.  I finished at 27:02 (about a minute off my usual time).  It was a hot one.  Good sweat.  Nice beads (Elaine Benes - Seinfeld).

Check out this years shirt -


What an unusually poor choice of color.  I think Bob Nutting must have gotten a really good deal.  When he heard they had surplus stockpile of "burnt sienna" or "birch mahogany" dry fit shirts, it must have triggered something.  He likely thought - hey, we just unloaded a fortune on that free agent pitcher from the Yanks (AJ Burnett).  Our bottom line just got sodomized.  Maybe we can recoup some of our losses with the indiscriminate dispensation of these relatively putrid t-shirts.  Incidentally, they were made in Tanzania.  You rarely see a central African country serve as the origin for mass replicated garb.  I wonder if that famous African warlord "Kone" was involved. 

I saw several friends who ran the half marathon or relay (Scottie, Andy, Griff,  Dee - aka Deanna Lynn and a few others).  And some others who ran or walked the 5k (Shaunna, Heather, Justin, Kelly, Blake, etc.).  Right before the start, I looked for my buddy Jon but he was nowhere to be found.  After a rousing rendition of the national anthem and an incredibly lengthy prayer for all the participants which touched on strength, courage, endurance, inspiration, fluid intake, humidity, emergency responders, devotion, liability waivers, fatigue, leg cramps, all in the name of our collective lord and savior Jesus Christ... we heard the traditional gunshot.

And we're off.  Still, I was looking for Jon.  Just past the Green's Donut shop/video gambling parlor/future whorehouse, a guy yelled "Saf!"  Lo and behold, it was Jon but he was walking in the OPPOSITE direction.  He yelled to me, "I'm in the wrong race.  I started with the half marathon people."  I'm a little perplexed.  I'm thinking to myself... well, he got about half the race right.  He sufficiently trained and was satisfied with the "running" part, but he failed to accurately assess the "racing" part.  He eventually joined in behind me somewhere.  After we finished, I explained that he should have just kept going.  Who knows?  Maybe he could have won the 5K.  

Though all in all, other than the heat and some flu-like symptoms, it was a pleasant run.  I was a bit disappointed with my time, but I'll get over it.  These days I'm more concerned about the stampedes.

Some other random observations:

They had a slew of those Eat'n'Park smiley face cookies.  But they placed them adjacent to the plastic barrels filled with bottles of ice water.  When someone went to retrieve a water, it would drip all over the cookies resulting in a soggified Eat'n'Puke cookie.  Poor planning.  In the future, you'll need a separate table for cookies, inexpensive dry pastries and such.

There were boxes of oranges and bananas.  I didn't have any of them.

There was an extensive massage area which was pretty crowded.  Personally, I would never subject a massage therapist to my sweaty body after a race.  Even if I was in agony (which I would be if I ran the real race), I wouldn't do it.  Simply a matter of protocol.  However, I did have a chance encounter with the local FBI director whom I updated on my progress with the stampede concerns.  On a scale of 1-10, I'd rate his interest at about a 2.3.  Then again, it's a hardly a conversation one would wish to engage in after killing your body in a 13+ mile race.

On a lighter note, as Jon and I were walking back to our vehicles, a hostile woman in a Ford Fiesta-looking car cursed at both of us.  She stuck her head out the window and yelled "these fucking idiots don't know where they're going!"  Then, she purposely swerved around Jon and sped off into the distance.  Ironically, she was 100% correct.  Because indeed, my friend Jon honestly didn't know where he was going as was evidenced by the earlier racing confusion.  Good call.

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