And I ran, I ran so far away.
– Flock of Seagulls (1982)
Saying good morning, good afternoon and good night to the Broadway Bridge
Mirror, mirror, on the wall, whose medal is the largest of them all?
This wasn’t quite my approach to choosing my first and (as it turns out) only marathon of 2020… but then again, if I could earn just one marathon medal for the year, why not make it the largest?
But let me take a step back…
As February 2020 drew to a close, life teetered on the brink of normalcy. News of a global outbreak caused by a novel coronavirus originating in Wuhan, China spread almost as rapidly as the pathogen itself. As Katie and I touched down at Bill and Hillary Clinton National Airport in Little Rock on Thursday, February 27, some 60 coronavirus cases had been reported in the United States. One day earlier, the Vice President had been appointed to lead the Coronavirus Task Force, nearly two months after the administration had first learned of the virus and one day after the CDC had reported that coronavirus disease 2019, or COVID-19, was approaching pandemic status. Given the administration’s own lethargic response to this new public health threat, clearly the rest of us had nothing to fear but fear itself… right?
As we had in Tulsa, Katie and I arrived well in advance of marathon weekend for good reason. After working with them to promote their 2020 event to our enthusiastic RaceRaves audience, the Chicks in Charge (CICs) of the Little Rock Marathon, co-directors Geneva Lamm and Gina Pharis, had graciously invited us to join them for their pre-race health & fitness expo Friday and Saturday. Having enjoyed our previous visit to Arkansas’ capital city for the Jacob Wells 3 Bridges Marathon, and having not yet had the chance to run one of the nation’s most popular marathons, we were quick to Jump at the chance to immerse ourselves in race weekend and share our passion with as many fellow runners as possible.
And so it was that on Friday morning we found ourselves in a happily familiar place, manning our RaceRaves booth at the two-day expo in the Statehouse Convention Center. There we were surrounded by nostalgic reminders, musical and otherwise, of the weekend’s “Totally Awesome” ‘80s theme. (A key part of Little Rock race weekend is the theme, which changes annually and which the CICs clearly enjoy bringing to life, starting with zany “theme reveal” videos such as this one for the 2020 event. A year earlier, the theme of “A Race Odyssey” had been downright prescient as hardy runners endured icy rain & snow on race day.) As you may sense from this recap, as a child of the ’80s I was happy to embrace the theme and Roll With It.
Although we’d be joined by fewer familiar faces than in Tulsa, we’d still meet plenty of cool new running friends in Little Rock, among them our next-door expo neighbor Amy, owner of Gypsy Runner. As the name of her company suggests, Amy and her husband travel the country running marathons and working a ton of race expos where they sell colorful, smartly designed women’s running apparel. And we met Tatum, who crackled with a frenetic energy as she spoke of wanting to run seemingly every race on the planet, her apparent Obsession counterbalanced by her stoic, military husband.
Saturday began with a role reversal, as I enjoyed playing the noisy spectator cheering Katie in the home stretch of the Little Rock 5K, its hilly loop course leading runners past the nearby William J. Clinton Presidential Library and Museum. That left me ample time for my own short shakeout run through nearby neighborhoods before we headed back to our booth for day two of the expo.
As on Friday, we spent the day on our feet talking to runners and washing/sanitizing our hands regularly to minimize the chance of contracting a virus we all still knew very little about. What we did know was that one of the world’s most prestigious marathons, scheduled for that same weekend in Tokyo, had already canceled its open (that is, non-elite) race, which annually hosts upwards of 35,000 runners.
Though the novel coronavirus was just starting to make its presence felt here in the U.S., Tokyo was the canary in the coal mine and an ominous sign of things to come. While the collective mindset inside the Statehouse Convention Center could best be described as pre-emptively cautious (no runner wants to get sick before a race, after all) with heavy-duty water coolers set up in lieu of the communal water fountains, this American life rolled on. Later that morning, in fact, expo-goers gathered round to watch the U.S. Olympic Marathon Trials live from Atlanta, where Galen Rupp and Aliphine Tuliamuk won the top spots on the men’s and women’s teams, respectively.
That evening, after an excellent pre-race carbo-loading session at Raduno Brick Oven & Barroom, we learned that the first U.S. death attributed to COVID-19 had been reported in Washington State. (The date of the first COVID-19 casualty would later be revised to February 6.) And less than a month later, the International Olympic Committee would announce that the 2020 Summer Olympic Games—also scheduled to be held in Tokyo—had been postponed for the first time since World War II.
Here I Go Again
Sunday morning arrived with partly cloudy skies, temperatures in the high 50s, and rain in the forecast for late afternoon. In other words, ideal running weather. We’d lucked out, no doubt about it. I couldn’t help but feel this was Mother Nature saying “my bad” for the previous year’s ice storm.
Arkansas wouldn’t count as a new state for me, since I’d already run the Jacob Wells 3 Bridges Marathon in late 2018. Little Rock was simply a golden opportunity to run a race that had intrigued me for The Longest Time, even if I’d not been immediately sold on The Promise of its oversized medals.
At any rate, I had low expectations for my own performance in my first marathon of the year. I’d taken three weeks off in January to rest an injured heel and had run only one tune-up race at the Surf City Half Marathon a month earlier. There I’d maintained a leisurely pace alongside my brother Chuck, who was himself recovering from meniscus surgery. Add to that the 18 hours over two days I’d just spent on my feet at the expo, and my chances of Runnin’ Down a Dream on this Sunday were admittedly low. Even a four-hour finish felt like a stretch, but What You Need on race day is a realistic goal to chase and four hours seemed like my best bet.
Toward that end, I lined up in the not-too-crowded, not-too-sparse start corral alongside the four-hour pace group to give myself at least a fighting chance at my goal. I’d rather Push It a bit too hard and run out of steam early than start too slow and find myself desperately trying to make up time late in the race. Neither is a good look of course, but every marathon is a beast, and an awful lot can happen over the course of 26.2 miles.
Little Rock’s 26.2 miles started with an immediate ascent on a one-mile loop of the neighborhood, followed by a brief downhill respite as we approached the Broadway Bridge. Ironically, Broadway hadn’t been one of the three bridges I’d crossed during my previous marathon in the city, so already I felt like I was expanding my horizons and enjoying the full Little Rock experience.
Across the Arkansas River we ran, the bridge’s twin-arch superstructure soaring overhead against an unbroken ceiling of dense gray cloud cover. Reaching the quaint town of North Little Rock, we circled its attractive neighborhoods, passing cute homes and cute shops and plenty of red brick. As we cruised past the Diamond Bear Brewing Company—or as the bright blue letters on the side of the building announced it, “BEER OF ARKANSAS”—I thought, This would have made a great aid station for the home stretch. Clearly more than three months later, I still had Route 66 on the brain.
Looping back south and then west along Riverfront Drive, we enjoyed a ground-level view of the Broadway Bridge’s brilliant white arches above us. My lasting memory of North Little Rock would be our final right turn past nostalgic Dickey–Stephens Park, home of baseball’s Arkansas Travelers, Double-A affiliate of the Seattle Mariners. With its red-brick gable entrance and green awnings, the park—visible from our hotel room across the river—is a charming throwback that looks like it belongs in The Natural or A League of Their Own.
I was feeling decidedly ok as we retraced our steps across the Broadway Bridge. This certainly wasn’t the worst I’d ever felt on race day, and at this point that was good enough for me. Because for the first six miles my focus lay primarily with my convalescing right heel, which along with my right glute was a bit sore here to start. Normally this would have been enough to occupy my mind, but compounding the problem was my lack of marathon-specific training due to that same gimpy heel. And that, in turn, had me wondering if or (more likely) when in the next 3+ hours my body would suddenly betray me and {SPLAT} right into that physiological wall that marathoners know all too well.
For now, though, all I could do was run.
I felt about five drops of rain hit my skin. Uh oh, I thought, Here Comes the Rain Again. And then—nothing. Unlike the freezing rain and snow that left an indelible mark on 2019, those five drops would be the extent of our precipitation for the day.
Back in Little Rock, we passed an outdoor Soul Cycle class on stationary bikes—a cool touch I thought, despite one of the female cyclists holding up an ill-conceived sign that read, “Who said long and hard was such a bad thing?” Immediately the Michael Scott voice in my head wanted to blurt out, “That’s what she said!” Luckily my last name isn’t Scott, and so in my head it stayed.
Aside from two out-and-back stretches, most of the marathon course would consist of pleasant neighborhoods with frequent cheer support. While I don’t recall seeing (or hearing) a ton of spectators à la Boston or Tokyo, I did notice decent-sized crowds throughout the morning. And a few dedicated spectators showed up at several spots along the course, including one fellow who was recognizable at a glance by his prosthetic leg.
Soon after passing the Clinton Presidential Library & Museum we embarked on the first of those out-and-backs, a sparse and less than scenic two-mile stretch that started industrial but soon transitioned to wide-open, fenced-off fields as we approached Bill and Hillary Clinton National Airport. This was East Little Rock, but no matter the neighborhood there was no mistaking—this was Bubba’s town.
Reaching the airport, we U-turned past a small-scale replica of a jet in flight and headed back the way we’d come. Here I surprised myself by inadvertently catching the 3:55 (projected finish time 3 hours, 55 minutes) pace group. Figuring what the heck, I decided to hang with them for as long as the pace felt comfortable.
Glancing across at the steady stream of oncoming runners headed toward the airport, I called out to fellow traveling runner Jim Diego, who’s not only completed a marathon in all 50 states but who has sung the national anthem in all 50 states as well. This was the first of two occasions I’d see Jim, both on out-and-backs, as his pastel ‘80s jazzercise outfit with curly black wig made him easy to spot even in a crowd of colorfully clad runners, many of them sporting ‘80s apparel of their own.
Leading the 3:55 pace group was a sinewy, tough-looking woman who seemed to know all her fellow pacers and half the spectators. She’d Shout out to someone coming in the other direction, then excitedly wave at a bystander and weave over to the side of the road for a high-five. Wow, I thought, this must be an awfully comfortable pace for her, otherwise that’s a lot of energy to waste over 26.2 miles. But she was the one holding the pace sign, and so naturally I assumed she knew what she was doing.
Turns out that was wishful thinking, as time would tell.
Nothin’ but a Good Time
As the miles mounted my heel pain faded, my Legs loosened up, and I started to feel almost… good. Then again, what reasonably trained runner doesn’t feel good in the first half of a marathon? It wasn’t until the second half that I expected my legs to turn to stone like victims of Medusa’s gaze.
Someone after the race said there’d been folks offering communion along the course. And while that may be true, being a California heathen it’s possible I mistook the moment for a high-end aid station. (I’m guessing more than a few takers were tempted by the wine.)
What the context was I have no idea, but somewhere in the first half I glanced my favorite sign of the day hanging from a gate:
What do you do when you’re attacked by a gang of carnies?
Go for the juggler!
In mile 11 we passed the Arkansas Governor’s Mansion, where Governor Asa Hutchinson himself stood outside the front gates fist-bumping runners as we passed. Regardless of your political views—and I’m sure the governor and I would disagree on plenty—this was a uniquely cool and memorable moment. And I’m confident Little Rock will be the first and only time I ever fist-bump a governor on a marathon course. I’ve run the California International Marathon twice now, a race that finishes at the State Capitol in Sacramento, and I’ve yet to see the governor rubbing elbows with the (literally) unwashed masses. So props to Governor Hutchinson for taking the time to say Hello and celebrate a bunch of sweaty, appreciative runners.
As usual, Katie was everywhere on race day. At times I almost felt as though I were running on an outdoor treadmill (minus the unchanging scenery) because every time I looked up, there she was. Eventually I’d lose track of how many times I’d seen her, since counting past three or four can be a challenge in the later miles of a marathon. (Note to potential spectators: she found the marathon course easy to navigate.)
Diverging briefly from the half marathoners in mile 12, we passed historic Central High School, where in 1957 nine black students—known collectively as the Little Rock Nine—were denied access to the school by the Arkansas National Guard and faced an angry mob of over 1,000 white protestors. Notably, this took place three years after the Supreme Court ruling in Brown v. Board of Education that segregation in public school was unconstitutional. And though the battle for racial justice clearly continues to this day, this particular standoff would end when President Eisenhower federalized the Arkansas National Guard and ordered the US Army’s 101st Airborne Division to escort the students into the school.
I reached the midway point in just under one hour 55 minutes; assuming a target finish time of less than four hours, this left me a nice cushion of nearly ten minutes for the second half. And I sensed I’d need all the cushion I could get.
We rejoined the half marathoners briefly on S Chester St before turning west again en route to the State Capitol. This was the only place along the course where I’d see a “Photographer ahead” sign, and sure enough the result was a great shot (as shots of me running go) with the Capitol dome framed in the background. Shout-out to the Chicks in Charge, whose route does a terrific job of hitting the city highlights.
Leaving the Capitol behind we started a steady 1.5-mile climb, the longest of the day. When asked whether their course is hilly, the CICs typically respond matter-of-factly: “What hills? It depends on your perspective. There are some bumps in the road, but life is full of bumps in the road.”
Running Up That Hill led us past one of my course highlights. Glancing to my right as we huffed and puffed our way up mile 16, I glimpsed the scoreboard that announced the “Arkansas School for the Deaf Leopards,” with matching sharp-toothed leopard heads facing off on either side of the scoreboard. You read that right—the mascot for the Arkansas School for the Deaf is… the leopard. What could be more perfect for an ‘80s-themed marathon??
But before anyone starts slinging accusations of trademark infringement, I should say the school adopted the leopard mascot well before the world was introduced to the British rock band that’s now enshrined in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. And in a fantastically meta moment that won the Interwebz, several members of the school got to meet Def Leppard in person and take a Photograph when the band performed in Little Rock in May 2016. How’s that for a happy ending?
The school sits adjacent to the Arkansas School for the Blind and Visually Impaired, and so together the two campuses provided much-needed inspiration for the toughest section of the course.
After mile 16, the course leveled out a bit before peaking near mile 17.5. What followed was a fast downhill alongside Allsopp Park that—nonintuitive as it may sound—quickly made me appreciate the gradual ascent that preceded it. Because nothing wakes up the quads quite like a steep downhill grade late in a marathon.
With that hammering of the quads, I could feel my legs growing heavier as we reached the most mentally punishing stretch of the day, the 5-mile out-and-back on Riverfront Drive (out) and the Arkansas River Trail (back). Struggling to maintain pace, I envisioned my body as an hourglass emptying over the course of 26.2 miles, gradually filling my legs with sand—not exactly the winning imagery I needed to keep me moving forward.
Eye of the Tiger
Normally, I imagined, this would have been a verdant stretch of tree-lined road; now, though, in late winter it resembled more the setting for The Blair Witch Project, a seemingly endless stretch of largely leafless trees to our left and browned-out Rebsamen Park Golf Course to our right. No water was visible, though I knew the Arkansas River lay just beyond the golf course. So instead I focused on the task at hand and putting one foot in front of the other, knowing I’d need whatever fortitude I had left to avoid surrendering to fatigue.
Nearing mile 20, I heard someone Call Me from behind and glanced over my shoulder to see (who else?) Katie running toward me from about 30 yards away on the intersecting road, the last available drop-off point before I entered the park. My first impulse was to wave her off—selfish as it sounds, did I really have a Desire to stop and wait for her to catch up, knowing any further slowdown might mean I could Kiss four hours goodbye? My brain responded with a resounding YES—I wanted my bottle of Maurten sports drink for fuel and, more importantly, the rest of my 5-hour Energy from earlier in the morning. And a brief pause would do me good.
Having raced to catch me in street clothes and jacket, poor Katie struggled to catch her breath as I downed the 5-hour Energy, took possession of the bottle of Maurten, and rejoined the flow of foot traffic on Riverfront Drive.
As I’d hoped it would, the 5-hour Energy had an immediate impact; I could feel both mind and body perk up, and each stride became a bit less labored. Meanwhile I sipped on the Maurten, at least until I dropped the top of the bottle a mile later and ended up sloshing most of the viscous liquid on myself, practically lacquering my Garmin in the process.
Luckily I could tell my body didn’t need the nutrition for the home stretch, and so I tossed the bottle at the mile 22 turnaround and focused instead on staying strong as we headed toward Home Sweet Home. It would be close, no doubt about it, but now that I’d worked so diligently to put myself in position for a surprising sub-4 finish, I needed to prove to myself I could seal the deal.
Heading back the way we’d come on the Arkansas River Trail, I shared a few words of encouragement with a fellow in Puerto Rico flag shorts. The Look on his face spoke of Physical exhaustion and for good reason, as he told me he’d paced the 4:10 group the day before at the Mississippi Blues Marathon in Jackson, a five-hour Drive from Little Rock. But he was appreciative of the support and still looked to be in good spirits, all things considered. Because when it comes to the marathon, nothing Hurts So Good.
Running Alone alongside the golf course I caught up to Tatum, who even in mile 23 of a marathon still emanated the same agitated energy we’d experienced at the expo two days earlier. In a frustrated tone she talked about her husband (who was running the half marathon) slowing her down in the first half. Moments later the 4:00 pacer passed us running by himself, which if you’re chasing a four-hour finish late in a marathon can feel like a shot to the solar plexus.
Tatum would have none of it. “Are you fucking KIDDING me?!” she demanded in exasperation. “I’m ahead of schedule,” he responded, which I’d sensed to be true with 2+ miles still to go. Then again, why was he running so far ahead of schedule when his sole responsibility was to maintain a reliable four-hour pace? Slowing down I could imagine as fatigue set in, but speeding up?
Soon after and just before the “first of the last uphills,” we passed my former Chief Motivating Officer, the 3:55 pacer with whom I’d run for roughly 11 miles. After all her earlier élan, she was now walking by herself, the 3:55 sign dangling from her hand. So far I was less than impressed by the pacing here today, though passing her did provide a momentary surge of adrenaline.
I’d known there’d be one last hill in mile 25, and as it turns out I was half right—there were actually two, neither of which were as bad as expected. Somewhere in the past three miles, in what’s normally the most brutal stretch of a marathon, I’d found my 6th or 7th wind. Now I was feeling relatively strong and eagerly anticipating The Final Countdown as our long but gratifying weekend in Little Rock neared its own finish line.
The L’Oreal Lipstick Stop at mile 26 (a clever diversion for runners who want to look great for their finish-line photos) was more understated than expected and could have benefited from some advance warning. Unfortunately I couldn’t spare the time 💋, but I felt good—check that, great—as I flew by the beautification station and along the final few undulations. Seeing Katie I clapped my hands and held up four fingers—chasing four hours had been a Thriller, but in the end I’d Beat It. Then I cruised through the familiar Marriott tunnel and heard my name announ—
Seeing a blur of movement in my peripheral vision, I glanced to my right to see Tatum go sprinting by like a Maniac with steely focus etched on her face, before crossing Down Under the colorful ‘80s finish arch just ahead of my official time of 3:58:08. I couldn’t imagine a more appropriate finish. And finally, I could Relax.
I’m Still Standing
What. A. Day. Beneath overcast skies, I was Walking on Sunshine as I passed a bell in the finish chute begging to be rung, though for what reason I couldn’t be sure: personal best? Boston Qualifying time? First time running Little Rock? Or maybe all of the above.
My attention quickly turned to the familiar face that greeted me as I exited the finish chute, and I thanked/congratulated Geneva (one of the Chicks In Charge) on an Epic, Totally Awesome race day. Then I moseyed ahead into the convention center ballroom where post-race activities awaited, pausing on the way to gratefully accept the spoils of a jog well run—the pride & joy of the Little Rock Marathon.
The ginormous, glittery finisher’s medal was even more ginormous and glittery than I’d envisioned, and more beautiful too in a garishly ‘80s sort of way. Though I’m a bit mortified to admit it after 40+ marathons (and I blame the finish-line endorphins), a child-like giddiness washed over me, manifested by an even-goofier-than-normal grin at having finally earned the nation’s largest, blingiest medal. I know some runners complain the medal is too big, too heavy, too showy, too this, too that, too much. I get it, and at one time I might’ve been one of them. But as I sit here typing and occasionally glancing up to see my Little Rock Marathon medal playing remarkably well with the other medals on my wall, I Can’t Fight This Feeling and now count myself squarely among the believers.
A word of advice to prospective Little Rock runners deciding between the full and half marathon: if you’re able to train your body to run 26.2 miles, then Whip It into shape and do it. The marathon course includes Central High School and the State Capitol, and while those last 13.1 miles don’t come easy, you’ll know you made the right decision when it comes time to claim your heavy medal, which is twice the size of the (still impressive) half marathon medal. Because the only thing worse than FOMO is the actual MO.
With my legs and core muscles already wiped out from my morning tour of the city, every step taken with that medal hanging around my neck was a full-body workout. I kept reminding myself to lift with my legs, not with my back as I wound my way through the indoor finisher’s area where chocolate milk, soft drinks, bananas and pizza awaited us, the latter of which I avoided due in part to COVID-19 concerns. Our finisher status also afforded us two free Michelob Ultras, though few people seemed to be taking advantage of that particular perk.
Here I traded “How’d it go?” updates with our expo neighbor Amy from Gypsy Runner, who’d apparently finished close behind me. And I had the chance to congratulate my friend in the Puerto Rico flag shorts, who after pacing 4:10 the day before had finished the second of his back-to-back marathons in a strikingly consistent 4:07. Two days, two marathons. I could empathize.
Once through the line Katie greeted me with Open Arms—we hadn’t seen each other in 15 minutes, after all. Then I settled into a chair in the crowded ballroom to take a load off (i.e. remove the medal) and gather my wits as a big-screen TV broadcast live footage from the finish line. After running 26.2 miles, to sit and do absolutely nothing feels Just Like Heaven. As I sat unwilling to move, volunteers made the rounds offering hot dogs and breakfast burritos wrapped in foil. It was a comfortable, climate-controlled post-race venue. And it wasn’t long before I felt Closer to Fine.
After a long and blissful rest, I pulled myself to my feet and we circled back outside to the finish line. There with microphone in hand, long-time running icon Bart Yasso was welcoming and encouraging the last few finishers across the line. Affectionately dubbed the Mayor of Running, Bart is a wonderful guy and one of the sport’s greatest ambassadors, even in “retirement.” And if Little Rock is any indication, he still brings plenty of enthusiasm to every race he announces.
Back upstairs in our room a short time later, I asked the question that needed no answer:
Mirror, mirror, on the wall, whose medal is the largest of them all?
Our nostalgic weekend in Little Rock left me with a fairy-tale feeling, an afterglow that would prove short-lived with the awful realization that where 2020 was concerned, there’d be no happily ever after. The next weekend we volunteered at our hometown Los Angeles Marathon, where 20,000+ finishers unknowingly bid farewell to normalcy as they crossed the last urban finish line of the year. Days later, races across the U.S. began to cancel en masse as the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a pandemic, one which as I write has claimed more than 540,000 American lives. And finally, one year later, thanks to science many of us are finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel… while anxiously hoping it’s not just another Crazy Train headed our way.
But life is a much bigger story than I came here to tell. Aside from leaving Arkansas with painfully chapped hands thanks to all the washing, Little Rock was a Straight Up success and as Totally Awesome as advertised. And that’s in large part because the CICs recognize a fundamental truth.
No matter what distance they run, guys and Girls Just Want to Have Fun.
BOTTOM LINE: If I were to sum up a terrific Little Rock weekend in one pithy statement, I’d say the medal is large and the Chicks are In Charge. And if I could earn only one non-virtual marathon medal for all of 2020 (which unexpectedly turned out to be the case), I’m glad I earned it in Little Rock. Arkansas’ capital city may be renowned among marathoners for its intimidatingly large finisher’s medal, but while every race does need something to hang its hat on, the truth is that Little Rock’s appeal goes well beyond the bling.
I wrote a bit about the city itself in my recap of the Jacob Wells 3 Bridges Marathon, but one of the coolest things about Little Rock is that unlike 3 Bridges, which runs mainly along the tree-lined Arkansas River Trail, the city’s namesake marathon treats its runners to a living, breathing history lesson. The course passes Little Rock Central High School (which in 1957 became the epicenter in the battle for forced desegregation), the State Capitol, the Clinton Presidential Library and Museum, the governor’s mansion, and even the Arkansas School for the Deaf with its leopard mascot (hence the deaf leopards, which totally fit with the weekend’s ‘80s theme). As urban marathon courses go, Little Rock is high on the list and particularly among mid-size cities. I’m even willing to forgive the two ho-hum out-and-backs from miles 6–8 and 19–24, since finding 26.2 miles of runnable roads typically requires some ingenuity.
Oh, and a word of advice for anyone deciding between the full and half marathon in Little Rock: if you have the training to run either, this is a no-brainer. Only the 26.2-mile course passes Central High School and the State Capitol… and though you may question the wisdom of your decision in the closing miles, all skepticism will fade once you cross the finish line and get your mitts on the nation’s largest and blingiest medal. Because the only thing worse than FOMO is the actual MO.
A year later, I admit our Route 66 and Little Rock weekends—separated by just over three months—tend to blend together, forming a memorable mid-size marathon smoothie in my brain. Then again, that’s a compliment to both since each features a festive atmosphere, top-notch organization & competence on the part of the race staff, a comfortable post-race gathering venue, great swag, and a lively Southern host city with its own Hurts Donut shop. And even though Little Rock is a city of bridges, the one brief section of the Route 66 marathon course that actually runs on Route 66 also happens to cross a bridge. So it’s understandable I might mix and match the two races in my head at times (luckily I’m a meticulous note-taker). My recommendation would be that you visit both cities and run each race for yourself to see how they compare In Your Eyes. The truth is you can’t go wrong with either, and I’d argue that both will quickly earn Your Love.
As you may expect in Downtown Little Rock there’s no shortage of lodging options, chief among them the uber-convenient Little Rock Marriott, which borders the start & finish line and which shares a building with the Statehouse Convention Center, home to the pre-race expo.
PRODUCTION: Event Directors Geneva Lamm & Gina Pharis (aka the Chicks In Charge, or CICs) and their team know how to throw a 26.2-mile party and have a fabulous time doing it. Case in point their carefully crafted, always creative event theme (2020’s was “Totally Awesome” ‘80s) which changes annually but which never disappoints, and which the CICs clearly put their heart & soul into bringing to life. Seeing the two of them dancing atop the riser alongside the start line on race day, silhouetted against the rising sun with megaphone in hand, felt like the perfect start to my first and (as it turns out) only marathon of the year. And the two deserved to enjoy the fruits of their year-long labor, as race weekend itself was organizationally flawless, from the high-energy expo to the historic course (see above) to the comfortable post-race celebration inside the Little Rock Marriott where volunteers strolled the room offering exhausted runners hot dogs and breakfast burritos. The indoor venue in particular was a strong finishing touch, since Little Rock weather in early March tends to be less than totally awesome.
SWAG: Ask any traveling runner about Little Rock, and the first thing you’re likely to hear about is the finisher’s medal. It’s unabashedly ginormous and hefty with plenty of sparkle, and you can expect a solid core workout if you plan to showcase it proudly around your neck. (Given this year’s “Alice in Wonderland” theme, I hope the CICs model the medal after the White Rabbit’s pocket watch so the post-race gathering resembles a Flavor Flav fan convention.) Each year on the first weekend of March, the Little Rock medal elicits an outpouring of oohs and aahs on social media from amazed/envious/horrified commenters. And I heard several runners admit they opted to run the full marathon rather than the half based simply on the size of the medal, training be damned—because whether you race to collect shiny hardware or do it strictly for the purity of competition, few things trigger such inexplicable FOMO as the Little Rock Marathon medal. Don’t ever let a runner tell you size doesn’t matter.
Participants also received a short-sleeve race tee that fits nicely and… wait, did I mention the medal?
RaceRaves rating:
FINAL STATS:
Mar 1, 2020 (start time 8:00 am)
26.41 miles in Little Rock, Arkansas
Finish time & pace: 3:58:08 (first time running the Little Rock Marathon), 9:01/mile
Finish place: 184 overall, 20/112 in M 45-49 age group
Number of finishers: 1,389 (738 men, 651 women)
Race weather: partly cloudy & cool (57°F) at the start, cloudy & cool at the finish
Elevation change (Garmin Connect): 637 ft gain, 641 ft loss
Elevation min, max: 230 ft, 488 ft
