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the lighter side of running... by Bob Schwartz
A few years ago I was a participant in a race which may be now called Follow the Leader, I think He Knows a Shortcut. The annual Turkey Trot run had turned into a Turkey Takeoff as some over enthusiastic, uniformed spectator did their best impression of an highly caffeinated safety patrol person pulling a Jim Marshall. For those who don't recall this Minnesota Viking football player, in 1964 Jim picked up a fumble and enthusiastically took off 66 yards -- the wrong way. Unfortunately, his teammates couldn't tackle him before he made it into the wrong end zone and scored for the other team. Well, Ms. Directionless spectator, only 40 seconds into the race, proceeded to take it upon herself to route the runners down the wrong street. She'd boldly concluded that the pace car was going in the wrong direction! Her yelling sounded authoritative and her arm pointing purposeful. Since runners usually exhibit a collective mind in these situations and would follow the leaders off a cliff if they had vigorously trained and were shooting for a 10k PR -- they turned down the wrong street. Off the leaders went, off the pack followed. Some of the leaders concluded it was the wrong way and tried to veer 4,000 runners over various traffic barricades (kind of a city cross-country steeplechase event) -- determined to get the race back on course. It was the largest, clueless, fastest moving and floatless Thanksgiving Parade in history. The back and forth, side to side movement of the pack resembled a kind of enormous conga dance line. They eventually went down enough back alleys and found the correct route which was now lined with an abundant amount of race and parade spectators, all wondering how an entire race could disappear into thin air. Suddenly emerging from a side street, the pack frantically waved their arms and screamed for the crowd to part so a few thousand of their closest friends could come on through and get back on course. Lounge chairs and coffee cups went flying as the spectators frantically moved like the Bulls of Pomona were charging at them. Race officials finally breathed a collective sigh of relief that things were literally back on track after an east-west-north detour. However, they were quickly dismayed to find that another large group of runners behind the main pack had made a second incorrect turn. This group, soon realizing the transgressions of their Turkey Trot, reversed themselves and was now heading back toward the other runners who'd finally routed themselves in the right direction. It was not the smoothest of mergers as the race almost came to a complete standstill while people pointed in numerous directions until majority ruled and the horde of runners began to go in a unified, and thankfully, appropriate route. The race eventually concluded and various participants had run various courses through various streets. Some ran shorter, some ran longer, and those who set personal best 10k times turned a collective deaf ear to anyone who offered that the course may be slightly less than the correct distance. They'd take a personal victory anyway it came. Most runners took it in "stride" and shrugged off the wayward path they'd explored. But there were some that acted as though they'd just lost their opportunity for an Olympic gold medal and lucrative endorsement contracts that would have permanently placed them on easy street. Even a smorgasbord of post race refreshments weren't going to pacify them that they'd somehow been stripped of some once in a lifetime opportunity. And the nameless spectator who started this adventure with her wrong way finger pointing? Who knows, but I hope she's not moved on to air traffic controller school.
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