Published November 30th, 2012
As a member of both the Marathon Maniacs and Half Fanatics, I’ve gotten a bit addicted to running races. Now that I’m running ultras my addiction has lessened somewhat (I now try to limit to those races that will be good training runs for my goal races), but I decided I’d go for six “moons” for the Half Fanatics by running the Seattle “Quadzuki” — four halves in four days. (I ran the full version — the Quadzilla — two years ago).
My darling and I put on the first race: the Wattle Waddle & Wittle Waddle. While we intended it to be a low-key “fat ass” type of race — it’s on Thanksgiving Day, after all — unfortunately our maniacal and fanatical friends keep begging us to increase registration numbers. In 2010 we limited it to 102 runners (the number of people who came over on the Mayflower); despite selling out only 78 people showed up due to a snowstorm. We upped the number in 2011 to 150, and we had 148 finishers. This year we capped it again at 150, but upped it to 200 due to popular demand. While we had several no-shows, we also had people trying to get in day-of-race (for $50 cash we gave ’em a bib).
Day 1 — Wittle Waddle
Since we were still trying to find volunteers to man a couple of aid stations the week of the race, I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to start my race. (I was either going to start super early, then man a station myself, or run afterward). But fortunately we got the needed volunteers and I could start pretty much on time. However, just as I was about to go we got a call from the far aid station — he took off with just one jug of Gatorade and no water. I hopped in my car, delivered the goods and got back to start about 40 minutes late. However, it worked in my favor as I was able to cheer on the runners on the out & back. (I also tried to disqualify them for several violations, but for some reason they didn’t take me seriously).
When I got to the mile 6.5 aid station, I found out our volunteers had a verbal altercation with some residents of the neighborhood. Apparently they always hold a community turkey trot starting right where our station is located (it’s on a public paved trail). The kids started swarming the table, grabbing at the chips and candy we had out for the runners. The volunteer politely asked them to stop, but then one of the mothers started saying how it wasn’t fair that we’re not sharing. “It’s Thanksgiving!” she said. Are you fucking kidding me? These are people who live in a very affluent neighborhood, yet they’re encouraging their kids to take food they haven’t paid for? Unbelievable. Fortunately one of our more gruff runners came up just then and read the moms the riot act. And if they try that shit next year, we’ll just have to remind them that WE have a permit to be there 🙂
This race was run just for fun; I didn’t care about my time (although I made sure my results are listed under “Empress Turkeytush”). I walked and chatted with several runners and picked up trash along the way. I also made a port-o-potty stop, but with about 3 miles to go nature called again. I figured I could hold it until the finish, but running simply got things moving through my system more quickly. I hate getting to that point — the faster I run the quicker I can get to a toilet, but the faster I run the more I run the risk of pooping myself before I get there. Finally the finish came in to sight and I headed directly to the port-o-potty rather than check in to get my time recorded. (I figured I could always get Weegee to change it any way!) Finished in 2:28:47.