I hate charity races

Not really. I just hate the part where it gets to be more about the charity than about the running. So here is my race report from the local edition of the Race for the Cure that I ran back in September:

The Cincinnati version of this race has seen some changes over the years. It’s always been more an “event” than a real runner’s “race,” despite the inclusion of a separate, timed, “competitive” start. It’s exactly the type of race that I typically don’t enjoy as a runner, despite the worthy cause that led to its inception.

In this latest incarnation, the Cincinnati Race for the Cure is more fundraiser than race. In previous years, they’ve given out age group awards to the top three finishers in each division of the competitive race. This year, they simplified things for themselves by limiting clock timing and awards to just the top 50 men and 50 women. From my perspective as a hardware hound, this really sucks. Even though I don’t really expect to be fast enough to crack the top three of my age group, it would be nice to get an official time and see where I really stood versus my competition.

There’s another thing I don’t like about the race this year. Instead of holding it downtown, which is a short drive from my house, this year it’s up in Mason, OH, a good half hour drive on the highway. This is farther than I usually like to drive for a 5k. And, although the race doesn’t start until 9:30, they want us all up there at 8:30 because that is when they are going to close the roads. Since this event doesn’t offer my anything spectacular in the way of a race for me, I’m not too pleased about this.

Why did I bother to enter, then? Well, I had thought my daughter might accompany me, and I thought this would be a nice mother-daughter event for us. But instead this weekend she is white-water rafting in West Virginia with her boyfriend. I could have skipped the race, but figured it would beat another run on the treadmill and be a little more entertaining than running outside on my own, so off I went.

Departed from home at 8:00, arrived at the Luxottica (race sponsor) parking lot at 8:30---neatly circumventing a long line of cars slowly pulling into the parking lot by driving in the other lane and hanging a 270 in a subdivision across the street. I do not like to wait on line. As I drive into the far reaches of the parking lot to look for a spot, I see long lines of people waiting for the shuttle bus to the start. I had been thinking that I would jog the mile and a half to the start and this confirms it. One good thing is that they send the race packets by mail several weeks before the race, so I already have my number and my shirt and won’t need to return to my car.

But it’s too early for a warmup run, so I mostly walk along the wide, paved path towards Mason High School. With my blue competitor’s runner bib, I am clearly in the minority. It’s a long walk to the school. We pass several well-groomed, newish subdivisions, while I think about suburban sprawl, the chemicals required to produce these unnaturally perfect lawns, and the effect of our lifestyle choices on our chances of developing cancer. I feel guilty about driving my minivan to the race alone. It is not the only minivan in the parking lot but I am probably the only runner who traveled there alone.

But it’s clear to me why we’re running up here instead of downtown. It is much more efficient to have us all park in the Luxottica lot than scattered about downtown, and they only have to close part of two, wide flat streets to stage the race as an out-and-back. But the biggest reason, I bet, is that Mason wants to have the race here. Mason is happy and proud to have the race here. Mason needs events like this to support the image that it is a “real” place. Downtown Cincinnati probably made life too difficult for the race directors. Mason probably bent over backwards to be supportive. And probably more money goes to the Komen organization as a result, which means more money, I assume, for the cause---and that’s all good.

And I have to admit that even I didn’t mind not having to think too hard about where I was going to park. Or, have to walk around the homeless people on my way to the race. Mason, it could grow on me.

It was still quite a hike from the outer edge of the school campus to the race expo. We had to walk across another big parking lot and the sports complex before we reaching it.

Tommy’s mother died of breast cancer and yet he has never done this race. As I make my way around the expo, I know that he would really hate it this year. It’s jampacked with people. I walk all the way around---still got a half hour until the race---and am surprised at the variety of booths. Basically, if it can be made in pink, it is represented here. I have $20 with me to do some shopping post race, and also think I might make it back for some Chik-fil-a and some Starbucks.

Finally, I realize I’ve been on my feet for 45 minutes and this does not bode well for my race, so I sit down on the curb. I give up the idea of doing a warm-up run. I guess that to crack the top 50 women I would have to run sub 24:30, and I know I don’t have that in me. So warming up seems silly. In fact, I’m even considering dropping out when we swing back by the Luxottica parking lot around the halfway mark.

But I tell myself that is silly, too. Finish the race, and get in that jog back to the car, and I can log it as a 6-miler!

Finally, it’s time to line up and I do my best to get close to the front. I am embarrassed to get too far forward because I know I won’t be “fast” but I also know that neither are most of the other people here. At least I try to get in front of the very heavy set people wearing a lot of clothes, the people who aren’t wearing running shoes, and the ones with their race numbers pinned to their backs.

The race begins, and as always in these type of events I realize that I have indeed started too far back, as it takes 17 seconds to cross the start line, and that is far too long in a local 5k. I’m boxed in for a good portion of the first mile, but that’s okay because it keeps me from going out too fast and blowing up. The morning is overcast but quite humid.

It’s a very flat course. This used to be farmland, after all. There’s a slight uphill grade along the road by the school, then a slight downhill grade towards Luxottica, and then you retrace your steps, so there’s a slight downhill to the finish before you swing off into the school parking lot.

I reach mile 1 in 8:35 (plus that 17 extra seconds, damn). I’m passing lots of people but the road is still crowded. This might be the most crowded 5k I’ve ever done. I don’t see that many women coming back on the other side of the road, and I wonder if the humidity is getting to people and maybe I can get a top 50 award after all. And soon we are at the Luxottica parking lot and I have to decide whether to stop or keep going, and I keep going because I just want to run the best race I can.

Mile 2 is 8:32. I am pleased by the consistency of my pace. But it’s not easy and I wish we were done. Mile 3 seems to take forever---I’ve trying not to look at my watch---and I begin to wonder if there is no mile marker for it. But finally I see it in the school parking lot. Mile 3 is 8:22. Woohoo, but I’m slower than I’d like to be.

I decide not to pick it up for the last .1 because I don’t want to be sick in front of all these people. Just as well, because it turns out we can’t actually “run” across the finish line. There is a lot of congestion in the area, and people are just stopping a bit before. The volunteers are sort of blocking the way, and as some of us try to tear off our tags to hand to them---reflex I guess---they tell us that they don’t need them because they already have their top 50. Okay then.

So, my final time on my watch was 26:35, but my actual time was probably closer to 26 even because of the delay getting to both the start and the finish.

Post race, I decide not to hang around after all because it is an awfully long walk back to the car. I grab two bottles of water and one banana to sustain me. I can’t jog back after all---another pair of shoes have proven to be unraceworthy! So, I walk on the sidewalk, because the “non-competitive” event is now in full swing on the road. I’m not walking fast but I’m still passing people. Finally, I have to cut through them so I can take a little shortcut across the Luxottica landscaping. No way I’m walking all the way out to the intersection if I don’t have too. It still takes me 24 minutes to get back to the my silver minivan, including some time spent looking for it in a sea of similar vehicles!