So, Saturday past was the 2nd annual University Park Azalea Classic Fun Run. Yes, I thought it was rather presumptuous to dub an event "Classic" when it's only been done once before, but we were here last year and it was the Azalea Classic then, too, so I guess that's all right. Sort of like "Wolf Blitzer" is his name, so it's okay to call him that despite the face that he's never blitzed a God-damned thing.
Anywhoo, the Azalea Classic is a marathon, of sorts. It's actually a rather cleverly disguised PTA fundraiser. There's a 1K run first (Yes, 1 kilometer. 0.6214 miles. You're done before you're warm.), which was scheduled to start at 8:45 and be totally finished by 9. Then, at 9, the 5K run starts.
Now, we were quite happy to cough up our $40 in support of the University Park Elementary School PTA, in exchange for some shirts that said we did so, the feeling of moral superiority that comes with charity, and perhaps the chance to meet a few more of our neighbors. So we sauntered down to the starting line at a few minutes before nine, checked in, and then attempted to find where all the actual runners had gone.
Because, you see, there were actual runners who had turned up for this event. People who registered early at the reduced price ($15 per person), worn running shorts and shoes (I was in my hiking boots), and probably warmed up and did stretches first. See, this is the genius of this fundraiser. People who run in marathons are insane. And part of their insanity is gravitating to available marathons like moths to open flame. They can't help themselves. You drop a hint that there is a marathon in the offing anywhere within a hundred miles, and it's like someone picks them up by the invariably scrawny neck and carries them through the air towards it. It doesn't matter if it's the New York Marathon or the Suppurating Acres Leprosy Limp, call it a marathon and they'll be there.
Not me. I hate running. Not only is it terrible for your knees, but I suffer from terrible stitches in my sides. And if that were not bad enough to keep me away from marathons, I have just two more words: "bloody nipples".
To get me to run, you have to disguise it as some other activity, such as playing soccer or fighting in mock medieval combat. If I'm distracted, I'll run. But running for its own sake? I don't think so. Sure, I know that exercise is good for you. And so I've chosen the least running-like activity I could think of, namely lifting weights. I'm a big muscle-bound monster. There's some aerobic activity involved, sure. But I don't need to get away from anyone.
Unlike runners, who for being "healthy" always seem to look a lot like undead chickens. I'd rather train to be a bully than a runner, thanks. Not that they aren't often fine people, as evidenced by their turning out en-bony-masse for the Azalea "Classic". It pulled in the D.C. marathoneers like honey attracts bears. Which is, as I say, the genius of it, since the PTA gets their money and doesn't even have to deal with their kids.
Note that there were lots of kids there. Sure, it's billed as a marathon, but it's a fundraiser for an elementary school PTA. For the 1K run, which is really the only one the kids participate in, they had prizes for each of the following age groups: under 5, 6-7, 8-9, 10-11, 12-16, and over 16. Or something like that. Also, of the various donated prizes, about ninety percent were to be awarded randomly. Yes, by a drawing. That alone should tell you how serious of a marathon this was.
Another clue is that most of the prizes were from local restaurants.
Of course, as I intimated, none of that bothered me. I strolled out with my wife intending quite strongly not to advance at more than, say, three miles an hour. Cleverly, I also brought my umbrella, which makes a dandy walking stick.
And an even better umbrella. Which was a good thing, because it poured. A more accurate name for the event would have been the University Park Azalea Classic Fun Soak. Fortunately, the rain held off until after the 1K, so the kids were all right. But during the 5K it came down in buckets. And much to my immense gratification, we were the only people with a great big umbrella, reaching the finish line (not quite dead last, but close) to find many dozens of panting scrawny people soaked to the bone.
We collected our t-shirts that said "Azalea Classic 2003" but meant "I support my local PTA", and some free Odwallas, and walked home, dry, happy, and just a little exercised, in the rain.
Sunday the weather was perfect, sunny and cool, and we went for a ten mile bike ride.
- Sun Ra