The weekend was odd.
I had plans to run the Illinois Warrior Dash on Sunday, thanks to Maggie. She assembled a team, sponsored by Delta Faucet, and invited the Chicago Running Bloggers to participate—with a complementary entry.
Saturday, and the week before the race, and the month before the race, and the whole frickin’ year was rainy, and I spent a fair amount of Saturday watching reports from the race about the aparkalyptic* conditions in the parking lot. Apparently everything got flooded, and bunches of cars got stuck, and more of the kind of thing that happens when an already-saturated wooded area gets more rain and lots of traffic.
I also spent a lot of Saturday at a friend’s birthday party, but had to cut it a bit early so I could wake up good and early. Not for the race itself, but for a volunteer shift. Again, not for the race itself—I take care of birds at the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum every other Sunday. That’s not exactly critical to the story, but it is an interesting bit of color, and it will pay off in a surprising way later on.
Anyhow, as I left for the museum, I found this in the lobby of my building:
While I’m fundamentally opposed to the passive-aggressive nature of this sign, it also confused and still does confuse me for a couple reasons. First off: spilled pasta? Really? On the scale of urban irritants (of which there are many, no matter how much you like the city) how does spilled pasta even rate as something that gets noticed?
And second: I don’t know what the back walkway is. The building has an alley, but there are far worse things than spilled pasta there. Or there are back stairwells that can be used as an exit, but nobody really does use them.
Speaking of mysteries, I also saw this in my neighbor’s yard:
Anyhow, there’s not much more to report about the Warrior Dash, since about 7:30 I got word that due to the weather and conditions (apparently conditions were bad enough that the course was inaccessible to medical personnel) it had been cancelled. In fact, I got that word immediately after getting a call from the car rental agency saying that my car reservation wouldn’t be ready at 9 am as I had made it and did I still need the car after all?
While last year’s experience wasn’t great, and I think that it was due mostly to an unforced error on Warrior Dash’s part (and a cascade of issues that stemmed from it), I’m a lot more sympathetic this year. Obviously I didn’t go there, and I don’t know precisely what the conditions were, but I know that kind of decision is a lousy one for an event organizer to have to make. I am inclined to appreciate their willingness to make that decidedly ungood decision.
* I hope you like the term “aparkalyptic.” It took me an hour to think of it; I wasted a lot of time trying to make “parkopocalypse” or variations of it work. Admittedly, this hour was just idle musing that I did while simultaneously cleaning up bird shit at the museum (payoff!), so it wasn’t like I was spending an hour racking my brains, but it did take longer than I expected.