Broad Street diary

I was sitting around earlier this year with Sarah, Scoot Jackson, and O'Regan. We were watching the Philadelphia Union play their very first MLS game against the Seattle Sounders and we were also talking about babies and free dirt, among other topics. Then the conversation turned to the Broad Street Run and we all agreed that we would sign up.

I had no desire to run the Broad Street this year because I ran it last year and it is pretty close to Fancy's due date. But since Coleman and O'Regan were in, I decided I would do it. For those of you who don't know, the Broad Street Run is an annual 10-mile run in Philadelphia. The race starts at Broad and Olney and goes south to the Naval Yard. There are no turns. And there are no hills. It is a straight run. A straight run for ten miles. It is more or less like running on a treadmill with 30,000 other people. Everybody who lives in Philadelphia does it at least once. In my case I did it twice.

I sort of downplayed the Broad Street Run this year. With the completion and near-victory of my first ever marathon fresh in my mind, I figured that I didn't need to train too hard to beat my previous time of 1.30.48, because 10 miles is 16.2 miles shorter than the marathon I just (almost) won. I also figured that I didn't need to use the ol' anti-chafe stick under my shirt. Both of these assumptions would destroy me.

I showed up to the marathon this year not as early as normal. Instead of showing up 5 hours early, I only got there 2 hours early. I parked at Citizens Bank Park, boarded the Broad Street Line, and headed north. At Olney, I decided to walk around the hood. It was fun and gross. 30,000 runners and 100 or so port-o-john's does not equal success. 30,000 runners and abandoned buildings equals something else entirely. I was not letting anyone take the tissues I had jammed into my pocket.

I didn't see Scoot or O'Regan, and I am not sure if they ran or not. I'm pretty sure Scoot is still stuck in Iceland. Whatever it was, I did see Mark from college. We talked for a minute about how we always run into each other at random times, and then I went wandering deeper into the hood. After a good hood walk, I decided to get to my corrall and get down to business.

While waiting for the gun, I did my stretches, which basically consist of tying my shoes. Mayor Michael Nutter did his talking, the wheel chairers and the elites were sent off, and then eventually I was standing at the starting line. That's when I realized it was hot. For the first time I wish I ran a little more post-marathon. The gun goes off, and away I go. At mile 1, I threw my water bottle into a trash can and tried dodging the walking geniuses that started in faster corrals. At mile 2, I was sweating. Luckily, the city was kind enough to open all the Broad Street fire hydrants, and there were water stops every mile. I think 35 people needed medical attention during the race, which seems like a high number for a ten mile race. But it was honestly hot. I myself needed medical attention as my shirt was showing blood around the left nipple region. Gross! Shoulda used anti-chafe. My original goal of knocking ten minutes off my time was not achieved. Instead I settled for an underwhelming 1.27.45. I got back to my car after grabbing a pretzel and a Skinny Water (THAT'S RIGHT) and scooted on home to mow the lawn.

Next race: Victory Brewery 5K. End of May.