Race Review: 2018 Blue Cross Broad Street 10 Miler

The back story…

This was admittedly not my first time signing up for what some refer to as the best (or worst), and undoubtedly hardest to get into race in Philadelphia – depending on who you ask. I first signed up back in 2011, and again in 2012 before the lottery system was put in place, and before I really got back into running on a regular basis post college. Everyone I knew was running it, and if everyone you know is jumping off a bridge…well you get the point.

I finally caved and signed up. Having run middle distance in high school and college, I had the sense to know running ten miles was no small feat. What I was lacking however, was the motivation to lace up my shoes and get out there to train, so I bailed, twice. I made what I felt was the best choice for me at the time, which was to give up my bib and not run – despite the money I paid. I would like to say the decision was hard, but it wasn’t. Running after college was a struggle for me (more on that here). I was burnt out, and no amount of money paid was going to get me back out there.

2018

Fast-forward to 2018. Fourteen years, post college. Fourteen. Years. Let’s just let that sink in a minute. Anyone else freaked out by that? No? Just me. Okay.

I have been (happily) running again for just over two years now. In that time, I have joined not one, but two running clubs, run seven half marathons, one full marathon, countless shorter races and drum roll please…one Broad Street Run! Yes, that’s right folks. It finally happened, I started AND finished the 2018 Broad Street run!

I will be honest though, I thought I would be more excited about it. This has been seven years in the making. Seven years of hype and watching friends post their photos from the big day. Although it seems like I chose some good years to sit out, thanks to Mother Nature. I’m looking at you 2016 monsoon! But after finally experiencing it first hand, I genuinely don’t get all the hype.

The day started out great, other than the 5am wake up (yawn!). I boarded the bus that one of my running clubs chartered, to take us down to the start line. We arrived around 6:40 or so and parked out front of Central High School in North Philly. Someone from the team gave us first timers the run down of how to get to the starting area, and how to get back to the buses after, if we chose to ride them home. We had plenty of time to hang out before heading to the start area…and the biggest perk of all a clean bathroom with toilet paper and a minimal line. But I was antsy. I wanted off the bus, and to head over to the starting area to get the lay of the land and see where we needed to be for the start. All of the information provided ahead of time emphasized “be in your starting corral no later than 7:40” and that the area with the porta-potties would be “closing at 7:40”, so be out or risk, well I don’t know actually, but I’m a rule follower and didn’t want to find out.

Meatball (that’s my running partner in crime) and I, made our way over to the starting area and upon seeing the long lines for the porta-potties, immediately queued up. Most were already out of TP at this point, but after a few attempts we managed to find some with and agreed to meet back up in the center area for some pre-race stretching. This is where the fun ended.

We checked our watches and saw that it was 7:30 –  time to exit the track area and find our starting corrals, a whole 50 meter walk outside the gate. If only it were so easy. A sea of incoming people off the street collided with a sea of outgoing people trying to get to the start area. It was like a hostile standoff from an old western, except the cowboys/girls were armed with iPhones and water bottles instead of pistols. No one moved. Literally no one, less than 10 minutes before we had to be on the start line. A few people pushed and wormed their way through, much to the dismay of those around them trying to patiently wait it out. Confusion, followed by panic, and fear of being locked in, as the crowd just stood there not able to exit to the start area. Those of us in the back thought, maybe they had volunteers there holding everyone to direct traffic (Ha! Wouldn’t that have been nice!) or maybe security was checking bags for safety (again, hilarious, and no). A woman finally wormed her way through from the other side past us, so I asked what was happening. Her response, “a traffic jam of people”. What!?! That’s it? This is all just because people won’t shift over and open a normal flow in each direction? That’s it, I am over this! I grabbed Meatballs hand and shoved my way through. Sorry, not sorry people. I’ve been impatiently waiting (okay not really) seven years to run this race, and I am not missing it because people can’t figure out how to navigate an opening in a wall.

Finally…FREEDOM! Or as much freedom as you can have squished in with 40,000+ other humans in a couple block radius. We made our way out to the corrals and find mine first (yay Team Gray corral!), took our required start line selfie, and I sent meatball off on her own for the first time ever since we have been racing together to find her fancy fast people Orange Corral. I later found out that to get to said Orange Corral, you have to cut through the Green Corral which consisted of no less than a 100,000 people. Okay I’m being dramatic, but as Meatball found out the hard way, this is why that 7:40 be in your corral bit was no joke!

Fast-forward another 20 minutes or so, and welcome to the (hopefully humorous) inner monologue going on in my head for the next three hours of the insanity known as the 39^thAnnual Broad Street Run:

8:00am: Hmm. Maybe shouldn’t have drank an entire bottle of water since getting off the bus.

No, no, it’s hot out. It will be fine, you will sweat it out.

It’s 8:00am. Why hasn’t this thing started yet?

8:02am: Oh goody, 8:02am, still not moving. Yep, the water was a bad idea. I have to go #1. It’s only 10 miles. I can hold it. I’ve done it before.

8:05am: Checks watch for the 800^thtime. It’s now 8:05. Still. Not. Moving.

8:06am: National Anthem time. Both the lady with the mic and the lady next to me with headphones in are killing it!

8:08am: Hmm, who can I find to be my new start line friend since I am without my Meatball, we are clearly going to be here a while, and I need a distraction from this full bladder situation.

That lady looks nice, but she has headphones in.

How about that lady. Nope, more headphones.

Oh hello nice looking lady, about my age, and headphone free now standing next to me.

We chat for a bit. Ya know, the important things, like when the hell is this show going to get on the road and more importantly, do I have time to run back for a potty break. The answer is never and recalling the disaster to get out of the porta-potty area, my going back is a solid bit of not happening. I did at least learn each wave has its own start versus everyone just flowing on through behind the elites like some races will do. I was also told the crowd would thin out within a half mile or so. (If only.)

8:10am: We are approximately 3-4 waves into the race. Just in case you were wondering, nope, we still haven’t moved. I can’t see anything ahead, but can sort of hear the announcer counting each wave down, then blowing the airhorn to start…ya know, between the Rocky theme song blasting at ear piercing decibels on repeat for the past hour, because well, Philly. Sorry people who live next to the start line and are woken up by that at 5am!

8:15am: Was that Meatballs wave? Maybe. Who the hell knows at this point. Either way…Gooooo Meatball!

8:17am: Now approaching 40 minutes of standing in one spot in this corral. What else is there to do but ponder life? I equate the start line of big races like a day down the shore. You get there early, you claim your spot up front with lots of room and a pretty view of the waves (yep, double meaning here), and then it happens. You know what I am talking about. That loud family, the one with lots of noisy obnoxious kids rolls in all late and stakes their claim right…in…front…of…you, because you made the mistake of leaving three inches of space between you and the person in front of you. Except it’s adults. And they are all wearing head phones and trying to yell back and forth to have a conversation because they refuse to take them out. And they are swinging their arms around stretching and practically smacking those around them in the head without a clue. And everyone around them secretly and quietly despises them, throwing each other eye rolls and Prince level shade. Oh, thank God, they found their friends further up.

8:20am: Still. Haven’t. Moved. Oh, but look! The Green wave ahead of us is moving. There is hope for us yet! The Green wave in case you haven’t experienced this madness first hand, has So…Many…People; they don’t even line them up on Broad Street. They line them up on a side street then migrate them in once it’s their turn to move to the start area. This takes what seems like a lifetime to do. Everyone around me is in agreement on this fact.

8:30am: THIS! IS! IT! We are up! We are moving towards the start line. T-Minus 3 minutes to the start and T-Minus 13 or so minutes until the first bank of porta-potties. I think. I didn’t honestly look to see where they are on the map. Was it every half mile? Every mile? No seriously, anyone know where these things are going to be??

8:33am: (Insert insanely loud air horn sound and thankfully the fading sound of the Rocky theme song here). Cross timing mat and start watch.

8:37am: First Eagles chant. Check to make sure that watch is really going.

8:40am: Second Eagles chant.

8:41am: Third Eagles chant. Philly, I love you, but seriously, if this is how we are gonna roll for the next nine miles, I…am…out.

8:42am: Oh look! Porta-potties! Phew! Potty-stop attempt number one. Okay, there is a line, a really, really long line. This is annoying but it is what it is. How long can it take to pee and keep moving anyway?

8:44am: Line has not moved one bit. This…is…insane. I am losing time. Who thought 6 toilets at mile one of a race with 40,000 people was an appropriate ratio?? I give up. I will hold it and keep running.

8:50am: Yes, more porta-potties ahead! Now to just gingerly cut off like 200 people to get to that side of the road and we are set!

8:51am: Oh goodie, another line, because there are still only six toilets. At least these people are more organized and creating multiple shorter lines so this moves quicker. Or so I thought.

8:54am: I have moved up in line but there are still like 20+ people ahead of me. May as well stretch a bit, as I am committed to this and not leaving, or I will repeat this scenario at every stop and never make it to the finish line. Woman behind me angrily yells “How long does it take to pee??”. Crowd all nods angrily in agreement.

8:55am: More stretching. More waiting. I make the mistake of looking into the crowd of runners going past. I see very few Gray bibs. I see lots of Yellow bibs (the corral that started behind me). I start to get a little panicky.

8:57am: Oh God. Are those Pink bibs? The last corral of people is now going past. Checks watch. Oh God. I am now 24 minutes into the race and not even close to the two-mile mark yet. I’m pretty sure my friends and family who are following me on the iPhone tracker and race alerts think I am dead in the gutter somewhere, because I haven’t moved in 6+ minutes…in a race!

8:58am: Enters porta-potty that has been left on a sidewalk, in the heart of North Philly, overnight (maybe longer). I will spare you all the details.

8:59am: Not as quick as Shalane in Boston, but I’m back on the road and feeling great! Watch is still going, SPI-Belt has sort of been put back in place, mile 2 signs are finally in sight. Only 8 miles to go!

9:13am: Hello 5k mark and the first timing mat. It’s okay friends and family! I am still alive and now running at the speed of light, dodging and weaving through runners, trying to make up the lost time. Don’t look at pace on watch. Don’t look at pace on watch. Just keep moving.

9:18am: I am not slowing down, but I see you Temple Marching Band, and…YOU…ARE…KILLING…IT!

9:34am: Mile 5, the halfway point! Based on the number of runners on the median taking selfies with City Hall, you would think this crowd would have thinned out. It hasn’t. So much for that half a mile in bit. Seriously though, why are there so many people? I know we have been running in a straight line for 5 miles, but why is navigating the circle around City Hall so difficult?

9:56am: Mile 7. Sloooowly work your way left to high five some kids (seriously, never leave the kids hanging) and scout out the run squad cheer section…aka Meatballs parents! What street did they say they would be at again? No seriously, it’s hot and I’ve been running for 7 miles. Oh! Found them! Heeeeeey run squad!!

10:06am: Mile 8.5. I might have gone a little too hard on that last water stop. Must walk to avoid yacking. Don’t give me that sad “it’s okay if you hit the wall, you are almost done, so hang in there champ” look, spectators. I see you and I am not having it. But seriously, I really might yack. Must. Power. Through.

10:12am: In the words of Mo Farah, “One Mo Mile”. You got this. Why are there so many people? Why is there so little space? I am literally bumping shoulders with other runners. Did they really just narrow the roadway and funnel us into less space? Oh wait, the race didn’t. The spectators flowing into the street did. Seriously people! Are you not seeing the struggle here? Get off the course!!

10:16am: Okay this is getting ridiculous. The school of mackerels at the aquarium give each other more personal space than this. Stay calm, go with the flow, this is just for fun. Who am I kidding? I am running into the back of people. This is not fun; I just want this to be over with. Oooh, those guys are flying! Follow them! Wait are they weaving to the gutter? Yep, this is happening. I am running at sub 9 min pace, in the gutter, inches from the metal barricades with crazy fans, whizzing past other runners completely hitting the wall. Please don’t fall. Please don’t fall.

10:19am: The Navy Yard gate. Still flying. Still in the gutter. Time to get back on the road and to the finish line. Dear other runners…please don’t come to a halting stop at the gate. Really, per the giant sign, that is NOT the finish line. If this happens, I am so screwed.

10:22am: Oh, hey guys taking photos from elevated lifts on the other side of the finish line! My arms are up! Sort of. I am waving! Oh, who am I kidding? There are like 300 people in a 10-foot space around me. I am going to be a speck in these photos!

10:23am: THE FINISH LINE! Oh shit! Less looking up and waving, and more looking forward, because there is the previously warned about WALL of people. We get it, you ran 10 miles, you are tired, your legs are tired. Hey guess what? Me too. But seriously, MOVE forward! I don’t enjoy finishing my race by slamming into the back of you, just to get myself across the timing mat.

10:24 am-10:35am (or later, seriously, who knows at this point): Run is saved on the watch. Why are we still standing here? What is happening? I’m tired, my legs are cramping and I need some water, like A-SAP! Why is no one moving?? It’s like the start line all over again, but with more sweat and less patience. Whyyyyyy??? Oh now I see why. One poor lonely volunteer on each side of the finish area, has been left alone to unwrap cases of water and hand out bottles to tens of thousands of people coming through the area. No, Really. This is not an exaggeration. Two people. Stacks of un-opened cases of shrink-wrapped water bottles. Tens of thousands of tired runners. What literally the EFF Broad Street?

Upon exiting the finish line/water area in the Naval Yard, you are funneled along into the food tent where you grab your bag of goodies, and exit to receive your finishers medal, in a giant field of guess what…more people. Like ALL the people. I am admittedly a bit claustrophobic, and get very agitated in large crowds. Large crowds of people are to be expected though at large races. It is just part of the deal. It doesn’t mean I was any happier strolling around through it though, trying to find our meeting spot, which by the way, was much easier to find on the map than in real life! There were so many people, calls and texts would not go through, but we finally found each other! We hugged, we exchanged war stories of the day, took some photos, ate some Creamsicles and wandered off to the after party for our free hotdog and beer. Okay, not the beer. The line was too long, and we were over it!

In the grand scheme of life, are any of these things even really that big of a deal? Was my life ruined over one bad race experience? No, of course not. So many people around the world don’t even have running water, so who cares that I have to wait 10 minutes in line to use a questionable porta-potty, on the street, in the middle of a race, or wait another 10+ minutes to get water at the finish line.

With race fees rising and entry caps being increased every year, thanks to public pressure to allow more people entry, where is the line drawn of what is good/safe/fun for those competing vs the race company making more profits?

In the case of the Broad Street Run, they have clearly gotten too big, and the overall experience had by the athletes involved suffers. At the end of the day, I could care less about the free tee-shirt or that my finishers medal opens a bottle of beer (seriously, what is the obsession with that anyway?). What I care about is proper ratio of toilet facilities for the number of people competing, safe race conditions where we are not having to even come close to touching other competitors while moving along, and access to proper hydration once finished. At $50.00+ per athlete multiplied by 40,000, I don’t think that is too much to ask!

Many of my friends will continue to run it year after year, but for me, a return trip down Broad Street is yet to be determined.