Corktown Races 2011

I'm not sure what it was that appealed to me. Maybe I was looking for a sense of commodurty, or perhaps I thought I was cut out for physical activity, but nevertheless, I participated in my first 5K run in Corktown, Detroit this past Sunday. The race preceded the annual Saint Patrick's day parade, and all the runners gathered behind the starting gate in front of Detroit's old abandoned train station. At the front of the starting gate were the die hard runners, the lean seasoned athletes who were going to give it their all. They were all dressed in high tech breathable clothing and were downing protein shakes and energy drinks. Behind them were the rest of us, the casual joggers and Saint Patrick's Day themed dressed participants. There were dogs too, at least a dozen I counted that were dyed green. Each was leashed and ready to participated with the rest of us. As we all lined up at the starting line it was announced that the 2011 race was the largest turnout ever with over 6000 runners. I was somewhere in the middle of the sea of green that had managed to show up despite losing an hour of sleep the night before due to daylights savings time. Next to me was a tall Asian man who towered above the majority. He was dressed as a leprechaun, sporting a green jacket and top hat, and he wore a red beard that had more of a Texas style ZZ Top look that any Irishman I've ever saw. In front of me were a group of girls all wearing green fluffy tutus and green and white striped knee sock. It took me about two minutes to even reach the starting gate once the race started. As I made my way onto Michigan Avenue, I swung my arms, pumping the air, while my heart began burning in my "i'm not really prepared for this" chest. I remember the smell of BBQ as I passed Slows restaurant. I did my best to try and keep pace with the majority during the first half mile, but it wasn't long before my pace was reduced to speed walking. You can prepare in a gym all you want, but there is an extreme difference between running on a tread mill and running down the concrete streets of Detroit.

When I reached the first mile marker, I was happy to see the volunteers handing out cups of water on the side of the road. I carefully grabbed a cup as I passed and downed it in one gulp. On the curb I seen a runner limping back towards the starting line, his face wincing every time he placed weight on his injured foot. As I was coming up to Nemo's, the crowds on each side of the street suddenly started laughing and pointing. When I seen a green dog hunched over and doing his business in the middle of the street I laughed too. Holding the leash was a woman who's red face stuck out all the more among the passing flashes of green runners who skillfully avoided the dog, and the call of nature he left in the road. As we entered the city I managed to keep a decent pace, and was getting use to the feel of the terrain. As we came up to the recently renovated Westin Hotel I noticed a small group of people gathered outside the lobby, watching the long train of runners while waiting for the valet to pull up their cars. I wondered where they were from, and what they thought of the crazy Irish freak parade thats was holding up the quick return of their vehicles. A large inflatable marker was placed at the halfway point neat the heart of Campus Martious. I rounded the marker and noticed another runner hunched over on the curb, trying to walk off a charlie horse.

Just before the two mile marker, a crazy woman, maybe homeless, was screaming at the runners near a small stretch of porta potties. I couldn't make out what she was saying as she barked at the wave of green that rolled past her corner, but she had the look of someone who had been woken up against their will, which may have been the case. I slammed another water and laughed at the guy at the end of the volunteers who was holding out shots of Jameson. If it wasn't being offered in a shot glass that had seen god only knows how many lips that day, I would have accepted his generosity and ran as fast as I could afterwards just for the humorous spectacle it would have made for the crowds that were already several drinks into their celebrating. As I passed Nemo's for my second time I kept an eye out for any surprises that may have been left in the road by green canines. I paced myself before reaching Trumbull, and ran past the fenced vacant lot where Tiger Stadium once stood. The crowds were heavy near the Gaelic League and Corktown Tavern, and music could be heard from the tents that had been raised to accommodate the day's celebrations. I gave whatever I had left during the last stretch of the race. I managed to cross the finish line without hurting myself, or anyone else for that matter. My time: an impressive 40:46. There wasn't exactly a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but the self pride that provoked these Irish eyes to smiling afterwards was good enough for me.