A while back, my brother mentioned the prevalence of news coverage that invariably included the WHO in the story as being, “Florida Man.” The WHAT, WHEN, WHERE, and HOW also invariably were about how this Florida Man did something incredibly stupid and the news story helped point out just how stupid was this Florida Man. Apparently” Florida Man is a Twitter feed that curates news headline descriptions of bizarre domestic incidents involving a male subject residing in the state of Florida. The tweets are meant to be humorously read as if they were perpetrated by a single individual dubbed ‘the world’s worst superhero.'” Or so says Know Your Meme over at http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/florida-man.
The reality of this weekend is that I could very well be dubbed Florida Man. I just got home from the second marathon of the weekend, this time at the Third Annual Town of Celebration Marathon in Celebration, FL. Mom was good enough to come back out with me after the lengthy car ride back from Georgia last night got us in a little later than I had intended. It was a quick turnaround from walking into the house at 8:30 PM Saturday and walking back out at 5:10 AM on Sunday. But that’s what had to be done to make this happen.
We had a bit of a morning trying to find the race day packet pickup. This is in the colloquial sense where “bit of a morning” is code for “where the hell is the freakin’ packet pickup?” A great many runners at the town hall were less than understanding and cordial about the packet pickup not being there; they grumbled that’s where it had been in previous years and were frustrated that there were no signs or information on where to go. I admit, it was frustrating but getting mad at a locked, closed building wasn’t going to solve the problem. The building after all wasn’t going to talk or suddenly open its doors; it’s not that transforming office building toy from the Tom Hanks movie “Big.” Just like Hanks’ character Josh keeps saying to the out-of-touch designer, “I don’t get it.”
We walked to what we thought was the start line and eventually asked directions from a crew member setting up the timing mat at the finish line. Sure enough, he gave us perfect directions to the packet. Admittedly, some signage would’ve helped but we got there. The race announcer, who was more a DJ than a meteorologist in contrast to yesterday’s race at Callaway Gardens, said there were 2000 runners doing all the distances that day. Given by the ever growing crowd at the start line, this seemed way off and Mom later confirmed he was just a bit off — apparently 10,000 runners were doing the events.
So far as memory serves, the course was the same as when I ran the inaugural Celebration Marathon two years ago. The main difference was this year Mom was there to cheer me on. And so at the halfway point, we once again grabbed a selfie.
It was a surreal experience running through a planned community originally laid out by the Walt Disney Company in the 1990s. Not only was it a repeat for me as a marathon event but the 2-loops through the various spots and the repetition of some of the same “funny” signs from two years ago contributed to a deja vu all over again sensation. That and the curated neighborhood that looked like something out of a wholesome family show of yesteryear… like Cabot Cove, Maine, where JB Fletcher investigated weekly murders. I used to love that show but the thing was called “Murder, She Wrote” and somehow despite featuring death in the title and in the storylines, it is still considered a great family entertainment. I’m not complaining mind you — I watched a lot of TV and movies as a kid (and still do as an adult) and for the most part I think I turned out pretty ok.
Here are some of the signs along the course. See if you can puzzle out which ones proved to be “classics” that contributed to the feeling of “re-running” the event.
This is one of my favorite pics I’ve taken along a course in some time. There’s something about the water reflection that although I should rotate it 180 degrees it’s kindly lovely as rendered by my computer. The reflection almost makes it seem like I’m upside down on purpose and not due to a weird rotational rendering.
After two loops, including a minor stop to snap a photo with some weird DJ at mile 7.25 (and therefore mile 20.25 on lap 2), I headed into the finish line. I never understood how to get the punch card for the post-race food. I assumed it must have been in my packet that we left in the car this morning but after returning home, I dumped the bag out and never found any evidence that the punch card was there. They must have been handing them out at the finish line to runners but much like race-day packet pickup, there was a decided lack of signage and assistance in informing runners of what to do. I vaguely recalled the system from the inaugural run as it encouraged runners to visit the finish area’s restaurants and get a stamp from the various proprietors; it’s a good marketing scheme and a means of controlling what food people get. Much like the old Richard Simmons “Deal A Meal” program, when you’re out of cards or punches, you’re done eating the day. No seconds for you. Do not pass go. Do not collect any more foodstuffs.
At the conclusion of this second marathon in two days, I think I crossed the finish line at 3:33-ish. Not bad. Not bad at all. But as my legs creak and groan and my body is hopped up on Advil, probably not the smartest thing to do, Florida Man.
Oh, proof that I am in fact Florida Man in the press — here’s a screen grab from the Callaway Gardens Marathon coverage in the Ledger Enquirer in Columbus, GA – (NOT the Post Ledger or Ledger Post or whatever else I called it in previous posts):
