It cost me $107.50 to enter the America's Finest City Half Marathon. Everything You Need to Know About Hip Pain.
The AFC Half Marathon is held on a Sunday in San Diego. San Diego is a hoot, with some nice beaches and Sea World, but I imagine a few cities would argue the "finest" part. Honolulu's Waikiki Beach is pretty nice itself. Orlando's got Disney World. And Sheboygan's got bratwurst, for those who describe "fine" as shamelessly marketing an artery-clogging serving of the fattiest meat on the planet bookended by two buttered rolls.
I'm required to pick up my race bib and chip at the Saturday fitness expo. That means spending the night. The host hotel has a "special" race rate of $179. It'll cost $50 for gas to San Diego and back, $30 for lunch and dinner, $2 for pre-race PowerBars, and $3 for a post-race Venti coffee. So I'm looking at roughly $370.
And for that I get? . . . Hard to say. I've never run this particular race.
But I've run lots of other races the past couple of years. At those, I've gotten to stand in the porta-potty line for 10–20 minutes, before standing on the start line for another 10–20 minutes. I've run courses that weren't marked or measured correctly. That provided no split times. And that offered a grab bag of finish times that were undoubtedly run by someone, just not the runners to whom they were assigned.
I emailed one race director to verify that her 5K course was measured correctly. She said she had no idea. She asked me to run it and then tell her how long I thought it was.
A 10K race director replied about his race, "I measured it with my car. It's about 6 miles." A friend ran the race and "Garmined" it at 5.5 miles.
It didn't used to be this way.
I was there when the 1970s running boom kicked into gear. I was a high school freshman in 1975, and Coach Logan was big on dragging us cross country guys to summer road races.
Back then, races were 50 to 300 people paying $3 to run chalked courses that began in a park--or a parking lot. We didn't get T-shirts. Didn't get race bibs. The pre-race speech was the race director explaining which direction to face on the start line. At the finish, we got Popsicle sticks with our place while some guy called out times from a stopwatch.
Races were about runners, not causes. They were competitions, not mass outdoor aerobic feel-good sessions. We warmed up. We raced. We went home.
We didn't stand on the start line while politicians bloviated. Didn't stand at attention for the "The Star-Spangled Banner" while our warm-up turned into a cool-down.
These days, were lucky to end up with one out of three:
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These days, we're lucky to end up with one out of three.
Don't get me wrong, there are ways that races have improved. For one thing, there are more of them--lots more! And more people running them. That's good for the sport, good for the nation's fitness, and good for race directors. And big race events, from the Carlsbad 5000 to the New York City Marathon, are like nothing we boomers could have imagined.
Still, I can't help feeling that this is one more experience we've allowed the market to take away from us, repackage, and then sell back at an inflated price.
I emailed the AFC Half Marathon race director. I explained that I was writing this column and asked about his race's $100 price tag. He said he was busy and to try him again in a few weeks.
Well, I'll be writing a new column in a few weeks. And besides, does it really matter why it costs so much? I mean, $370 buys a small TV. It buys three pairs of training shoes. It buys a cardiovascular stress test for those who've treated themselves to a few too many buttered bratwursts.
As it turns out, a training setback is sidelining me for the AFC Half Marathon. My $107.50 is nonrefundable. Photo ID is required to pick up bib and chip, so I can't give my number to someone else.
Here's what I intend to do once I'm fully fit again. I'm going to warm up, then run all-out for exactly 13.11 miles, at which point I'll stop my Garmin, check my time, and then treat myself to a Starbucks Venti coffee.
Total cost: $3.
Just like the old days. Just like when a chalked start line and a stopwatch were all we needed--and a successful race had nothing to do with fitness expos and everything to do with actual running.
Pete Magill holds five American age-group records and is the oldest American to break 15:00 for 5K, having run 14:45 a few months before his 50th birthday.
