2/20/22 – The A1A Marathon, AKA The “Annoying One, Amirite?”

Ya know, I wish there was a song that could encapsulate the lessons I *should* have learned from this marathon. A showstopper thing, one that advises and encourages and inspires, speaking truth to power. And it should also incorporate the word “fractals.”

I was in a snit at the start line for the Fort Lauderdale A1A Marathon. My “hotel” I booked was actually an AirBNB. They had problems with their A/C so I felt like I was in a one-man performance art piece inspired by “Cool Hand Luke” and I was stuck “in the box” in real time. I know other parts of the country are dealing with winter. In Fort Lauderdale, the outside was pushing 80 degrees that night… and inside this house I felt like we were closer to 110.



I hadn’t slept much and I thought the race was scheduled to start at 5:30 AM. I had arrived early, at the race director’s advice, and had parked in a city lot. But this being a beach town, the city lots were 24/7 and charged exorbitant fees. I thought parking at Walt Disney World was excessive. But here in Fort Lauderdale, it was $4 an hour, any hour, and so I had to guesstimate my finish time and hope I made it back in time. Maybe I could have gotten away without paying but the way my luck has been going, I had visions of a yellow boot being affixed to my car’s tire and a city fine a hundred fold more expensive. So I paid the fee… only to discover they tack on a “convenience fee” on top of everything else.



The recommended lot was 0.7 miles from the start… which was fine until I got to the pre-paid VIP lot right next door to the start that would’ve been CHEAPER than what I had just paid. And again, despite clear instructions that all runners had to attend the previous day’s expo to pick up their race bibs… no exceptions… there was per usual a race day packet pickup. Not that I should have driven 3 hours at 1 AM to get down here this morning… but at the same time, it’s not like my “sleep” the night before was anything more than an arduous sweatbox due to a failure to communicate.



I was as I said in a snit… and I couldn’t stop thinking about the death by a thousand cuts of the experience so far. The race had been upfront about their Covid protocols, or dare I said, Covid nonchalance. But to their credit, they HAD said what the plan was. That’s way more than the previous few races I was at.



I had hoped the corrals would be spread out but as you can see, the definition of “spread out” means “packed in like sardines” in Flori-Duh.

And while the race activities began at 5:30 with a pre-recorded National Anthem.  The marathon itself didn’t start until 6 AM (well, 5:58 AM because even the DJ grew impatient standing around).  With all that time to kill, I wandered about and thoughts of accommodation, covid, and annoyances rattled round the brain.

I kept rehashing the things that were bugging me about this whole event.  And even while running the race, I couldn’t let it go.

Say… that’d be a great title for the song.  I should write that.  It’s a billion dollar plus idea!

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Stray shots from the road:

The finish festival was jammed with folks who had run the half or 6K.  The lines were so long to get post-run food that I gave up and shuffled back to my car.

I remained in a snit… it was just one of those days.

On the plus side, the sail boat moves on the medal.  So there’s that…

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