Rock n Roll St Louis Recap/Review

After a grumpy 5AM wakeup call, B and I showed up at the race around 6AM for a 7AM start. We found super-close, super-cheap parking and were feeling pretty proud of ourselves. I was surprised at how few people were there by 6, but it made it easy to find my corral, grab a bottle of water, and use the bathroom (no lines at the porta potties!).

At about 6:45 I shed my outermost layers, parted ways with B, and made my ways into the 9th corral. It. was. cold. The weather in St Louis has been schizophrenic lately, but I don't think that many of us expected such a frosty morning. The race also began about 10 minutes late, so it was 7:20 by the time my corral crossed the starting line. The announcer counted down for each corral's start, so every 90 seconds we heard "10...9....8... come on, everyone count with me! *dead silence* ...7.....6...." and I wanted to punch her.

The gorgeous view from the start

Not only could I not feel my extremities, but my butt was totally numb for the first mile. Has that ever happened to you? It was awkward.

I hadn't gone on a single run in two weeks, for a total of about 10 miles total in the month before the race. It was probably dumb to even run this race, but I'm a stubborn pig who likes medals. This was originally going to be a PR attempt, but I gave up on that at the starting line and decided just to have fun.

One big complaint: the lack of bands along the course. The ones that were there were good, and I really appreciated their time and effort, but this race didn't "rock" nearly as much as I thought it would. Some "band stations" just had speakers blaring Justin Bieber. Also, the band at mile 5 was playing "Halfway There" by Bon Jovi when I ran by. No one - halfers or marathoners - was even close to "halfway there," so I felt some insult piling on top of the injury that 5 miles will do to undertrained legs (more on that in a later post).

At mile 4 I decided that I was going to go for my original goal of PRing with a sub 2-hr race.

The course support was great, and the volunteers were the best part of this race. They were numerous, they were cheerful, and they were quick to clear empty cups out of the road. There were water/gatorade stations every 1.5 miles or so, and there was a Gu station around mile 7. They had vanilla Gu - my favorite!

At mile 7 the mental struggle started, and I decided that PRing was ridiculous and dumb.

At mile 8, I did some mental math and decided to PR.

At mile 9, I decided that PRing was not going to happen, plus it was ridiculous and dumb,.

At mile 10, I was hell bent on going under 2 hours.

Around mile 11, I saw a sign that said "ONE MILE TO BEER." I was so delirious from my internal PR struggle that I assumed that I missed a few mile markers and was about to come up on the finish. EXCITEMENT. I mean, they couldn't give us beer on the course, right?

Wrong. A local bar was passing out little paper cups of PBR to anyone willing to imbibe on the run. I was so confused that when I got to the next aid station I wasn't sure what was in the cups, so I screamed "WATER?!?!??" at the poor volunteer to confirm that I wasn't about to get a bitter surprise. Also, that last aid station had put water in the Gatorade cups (and vice versa) and my delusional brain couldn't handle the switch.

The grunting and groaning started at mile 12, when I decided to sprint for the finish. I had eaten a Shot Blok right after the last aid station and my stomach was sick of my bull. I had to slow down my painful slog sprint so I wouldn't puke on the side of the course. I dragged my butt across the finish line at 1:58.41, a 7 minute PR that was fueled by stubbornness and vanilla Gu.

The secure zone is my favorite part of races. Where else can I grab free food to my hearts content AND get a medal for my trouble? It was a struggle to hold onto everything until I met B at the gate. My quads starting cramping almost immediately, so we walked a few slow, painful laps around the family reunion area while I ravaged a bagel and whimpered.

The medals were glittery and HEAVY. The ribbon was awkwardly short, but no big. Notice the attractively chipped nail polish. We didn't stick around to hear 3OH!3 play because we knew our dog was probably going nuts at home. I got back to the apartment, showered, ate, and still had time to sit at the window and watch the marathoners go by. At that point, it was better them than me.

Overall, I loved the volunteers and support, but the course was boring with a capital B. Very few spectators, very few hills, and almost no music. It felt more like a 13.1 mile training run with a few thousand of my best friends. However, this is only the second time St Louis has hosted a Rock 'n' Roll race, so I might be tempted to sign up for next year (if I registered early and with a discount code). I think there's some good potential here.

Have you ever ran a Rock 'n' Roll race? 
What did you think?