I’m going to try and do a three-quarter assed post tomorrow summarizing the internal dialogue that happened as I ran the Pro Football Hall of Fame Marathon today. I’m not sure which voice was the devil and which the angel of cartoon lore; perhaps real life is not so binary. But I think it’ll be easier to type out stray stream of consciousness delusions from the road on an actual keyboard rather than this iPhone’s virtual one that seemingly autocorrects into ever more incoherences.
In the meantime, here are some post-race thoughts on Canton and the drive back to the Pittsburgh airport.
The line to get in the shuttle buses back to the parking lot was, in a word, dauntingly horrible. That’s two words, I know, but that’s how awful it was. It was so awful that it cannot be summed up by just one word.
I checked my google maps and it was a 35 minute walk. That seemed to offer a faster exit even if it meant adding some mileage to the day. But I’d just had a hotdog and chips and as will be clear tomorrow, Paul Simon posed the question perfectly, “why am I soft in the middle?” I need to lose 10-20 pounds and do some extra miles would do me good. Plus, moving would hopefully preclude post-run cramp-ups from standing around for ages waiting for a bus.
It was definitely a good decision for as I made my way it was clear the buses were trapped in traffic trying to cross the course route. That’s just poor planning on the organizers part. Runners kept getting off the buses and then walking with me. I was not alone in deciding it was easier and faster to hoof it.
We had parked at the Fairgrounds and I kinda loved their logo:
Getting into my car, I changed shirts and headed to the Pro Football Hall of Fame to use my complimentary museum entry.
Arriving at the under massive renovation for a major expansion building, I was struck by the faux designed football that to me looked more like the pope’s hat. I guess for some football is a religion… but I still think they were going for a football and not his holiness’s chapeau.
Heading inside, I presented my bib’s tear off admission and the docent said “that’s great, welcome! We just need you to cover $10 for parking!” I looked at the sign and looked back at him. I had already paid $5 for a bus to nowhere at the event. It was free to shop so I passed on the payment; this then is the sum total of what I saw of the Hall of Fame:
I should note, nary an OJ figure, jersey, or photo in sight.
I should also note they had mugs for both “Karen” and “Steve” (also thirdly “Steven”) but there wasn’t a “Kevin” to be found. I took that as a sign that THIS Kevin shouldn’t be inside either!
A man’s got to have a code. And I wasn’t about to hand over a Hamilton to get into this work-in-progress “museum.”
I don’t normally go for obscene hand gestures but this one seemed… right.
And seriously, don’t these footballers look more like sparring Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?
I decided to just hear back to Pittsburgh early. I was going to try for the First Ladies Museum but it was right in the course route and I couldn’t bear trying to navigate my way there.
I did stop at perhaps the cutest convenience store chain in America. Look at that puppy logo mascot. “Adorbs” as I think the kids might never have said but really should have.
I wanted to (over)fill my rental car’s gas tank as Ohio gas was 70 cents cheaper per gallon than PA. I actually just read PA has the highest gas tax in the US, and that a recent hike out in CA only brings it closer to Pennsylvania without actually surpassing it. But at the pump there was this sign…
And all I could think of was Flip Wilson. So I says to myself, “Self…”
Having been nickel and dimed throughout the day, I briefly considered using my excess time at the airport to pick up some easy money…
Ultimately I chose to just head inside… and just as I did, Southwest texted me to say my flight has been delayed.
Sigh.
Oh why oh, why oh, why oh … did I ever come to Ohio?
More on that tomorrow.