An Open Letter to the Atlanta Track Club

Dear Atlanta Track Club

First, let me congratulate you on another successful Peachtree 10k Road Race.  The magnitude of planning and executing the operation was again first-rate.  I can not even begin to imagine the challenge of putting this all together, yet every year you make the operation move as smoothly as silk.  Well done.

I am sure you are anticipating a "but" or some complaint about what I experienced.  This is not the case.  Yes, I missed my goal time by three minutes, but that's not your fault.  Yes, I lost my Stryd foot pod somewhere in Piedmont Park.  Again, that's on me.  A small piece of Velcro from the Dollar Store could have saved the day, but I wasn't thinking.  Yes, my Garmin went a little off at about the five-mile mark, but my final time was still accurate, and the map it produced was amusing to look at.  No complaints.  But one suggestion.  Let's go back to the expo.

I am sitting with my bag of freebies, listening to a group of runners speaking about how slower runners can be better integrated into the running community.  One comment caught my attention: the presenter stated that she is somewhat reserved, which adds to the stigma of being a slow runner.  I found it interesting that this topic arose during the talk, and I wondered if being introverted could be an issue in the general running community.

Fast forward about sixteen hours.  I have arrived at the Brookhaven MARTA station, and the number of people waiting for the next train is staggering.  The platform is four to five people deep, and, yes, you guessed it, most everyone is decked out in their finest running gear heading to the starting line just like me.  Some random thoughts and actions shoot through my head, such as what starting group others are in (this is displayed on the bib), what kind of apparel everyone is wearing, and if anyone would notice my brand new snappy Brooks Ghost Max 2 shoes that I was sure would bring me at least one Strava segment PR.  Then it hit me.  Bluntly and quickly.  I was all alone.

The other runners on the platform were essentially in groups, some as few as two, some as large as a dozen or so.  With the platform as crowded as it is, I get to listen in on some conversations.  A group directly in front of me is discussing their upcoming plans for their fall college semester.  A couple nearby talks about the logistics of meeting some family members at the end of the race.  Another group of friends anguish over their seemingly substandard food choices the previous night.  I say nothing.  

The train arrives, and the feeling of aloneness is amplified.  Here I am, shoehorned into the subway car like cattle, and I know no one.  Conversations still happen all around me, mostly friendly banter about the crowded conditions.  Atlanta's party of the summer was starting to make me feel like the wallflower of the party.

I find my way to the start area and see much of the same.  Granted, starting a conversation while in the port-a-john line can get pretty creepy pretty fast, but everywhere else, all I am seeing is family and/or friends warming up in anticipation of the run.  I am involved in exactly three conversations: an older gentleman who I requested to take my picture, a man in his forties who was telling me about the intricacies of his warm-up routine, and a young lady whose colorful hippie shoes I complimented.

Where am I going with this?  I get the feeling that there are more than a few runners at the race who are in the exact same position (I was going to use the word "predicament," but I am not sure if this rises to that level) that I was in.  So I am going to make a bold suggestion.  

Make a new starting group.  One determined not by a race time or a fitness level, but determined by comfort with social engagement or a quantifiable lack of running partners.  One that an individual can qualify for simply by having the letter "I" start their Myers-Briggs Personality Indicator.  The new starting group could, since one currently does not exist, take the letter Q.  Q for quiet.

Now that you have had a second to catch your breath, pick yourself up off the floor, and recover from your extended laughter, allow me to anticipate the difficulties you are seeing with my plan and address them.  Let's start at the very first step: exactly how would a runner choose to be part of group Q? Very simple: ask them.  When one registers for the Peachtree, one has to answer quite a few questions: age, gender, disability status, membership status, and so on.  One more question wouldn't hurt; tick the box for inclusion in group Q.  I understand that slower runners or those who did not submit a race time could potentially move up to an earlier start time by telling an "extroverted lie." Still, I am also willing to bet that there is plenty of movement within the starting groups already.

Next, the obvious logistical challenges with adding another starting group.  I get this one.  I was in starting group S this year, and I felt proud that I held a position at the front for the entire walk to the starting line.  Imagine my surprise when a race official started yelling, "Go with this group, S goes with R.  We're running behind."  It is indisputable that I am on the outside looking in when it comes to police details, street closings, setup and breakdown, and everything else that goes into putting on this event.  Could you kick things off five or ten minutes earlier to accommodate this request?  I don't know.  Could you eliminate a starting group on the back side of the race, assuming a new group would redistribute the numbers of each starting group?  Could you try to squeeze in another starting group and see how it goes?  Yes, I know, a lot of work.

How about the possibility that the spread of anticipated finish times would be way too great, and this would cause undue congestion on the race course?  I get that runners are grouped by anticipated finish for several reasons.  I am also aware that the course is crowded, even with the generous amount of space given to the runners on Peachtree Road, which is kind of my point.  As much effort as I am sure you put into it, when you have a race with upwards of 40,000 people, things are going to get a little cramped.  I am okay with the tradeoff.

Lastly, the inevitable question.  What if?  What if you go ahead, create this "introverted running utopia," and it bombs?  What if only a dozen or so people request group Q?  How can you justify adding another starting group if you don't see significant interest or participation?  Okay, this is a fair point.  My suggestion: give it a test run and mull over the results.  A few years ago, I ran the Eastside Beltway 10k, a race that had five starting groups that I believe were 100% determined by anticipated finish time.  Since the participants were on their honor to submit an honest assessment of said finish time, why not trust that the runners would give the same consideration to being in a new group where they could feel comfortable discussing the course, the quality of their running equipment...........................and of course, which other Atlanta Track Club events to enter!!!

Let me get back to reality.  I know that I have a better chance of actually winning the race than seeing a new starting group formed based on my race day observations.  But I am thinking that you are constantly striving to make both the race and the experience better.  I am also thinking that you like to receive feedback, no matter how positive, negative, or far-fetched.  So I humbly and quietly submit this observation, with no expectations.  

See you at the starting line.

Peachtree 10K 2025. What Went Right, and What Went Wrong

 July 4th.  Fireworks, cookouts, hot days at the beach.  For me, it's a new tradition: running the Peachtree 10K in Atlanta, Georgia.  This year marked my 5th running of the actual, non-COVID-affected race.  I had only one goal: to finish the race strong and without emergency medical assistance.  Last year, I blew out a knee a couple of miles in and had to limp to the finish.  I just wanted to go the distance.  However, I made some adjustments to my race-day routine that I felt would make the experience run more smoothly.  Some worked.  Some did not.  Here we go.

The first change was getting to the race.  For the past three years, I have been walking to a Route 30 bus stop, then catching a bus to the Lindburgh subway station.  Shuttle buses (one after the other, like clockwork) then transport the runners to a point near the starting area.  I did not have much of a reason to change things up the first couple of times.  Waiting at the bus stop early in the morning on a holiday was strangely serene; the bus was on time to the minute, there was no wait on the shuttles, and perhaps most importantly, there were port-a-potties at the subway station.

Last year, everything was running smoothly until the shuttle ride.  The bus became stuck in heavy traffic and remained stationary for extended periods.  Some runners who had early start waves exited the bus early and ran through traffic to get to the start line.  While the delay did not significantly impact my pre-race routine, I felt that an alternative would be a good idea to explore.

My plan was simple: take the Route 8 bus to the Brookhaven subway station, then take the subway one whole stop to the Lenox station, which is very close to the starting area.  My reasoning with the subway was that Brookhaven was the second stop on the line.  With an early start, I doubted that many runners would be on this line. I figured about 10 people would be on the platform.  Who knows, maybe I could strike up a conversation with someone and receive some key racing insights.

The bus was on time, and there were about half a dozen other passengers on the bus, but no other runners.  As we turned onto the road leading to the subway station, one of the other riders suddenly screamed, "Look at all the people!!"  Yes, the platform was full of runners, but at this point, it did not look too bad, and I knew that MARTA was running extra trains.  So I exit the bus, get to the platform, and see that it is wall-to-wall runners, four to five people deep.  The first train was full, but I managed to squeeze onto the second train with no real time concerns.  Glad I took that pre-race shower to get the blood pumping.

We arrived at Lenox just as a southbound train was unloading.  This caused a cattle at the stockyard effect, to the point where the escalator had to be monitored for weight limits.  However, things got better as soon as I exited the station.  The signage to the wave areas was fairly well marked, and there were port-a-potties en route, which I took full advantage of.

At the start area, my usual practice is predictable.  Water, another visit to the port-a-potty, more water, a warmup run in some secluded area (thank you Wieuca Road Baptist Church for the use of your empty parking lot), a photo to post to Facebook, and then join my start wave.  I try out another change here, listening to music.  I am concerned that it will drain my phone's battery and not provide much of a boost, but I will note and evaluate.  I am planning to go with a run/walk strategy; 30/30 for the first half of the race, 20/30 for the second.  While I use the Galloway method all the time in training, I have rarely changed intervals mid-race.  Again, we will soon find out.

The race starts, and some things quickly become apparent.  The music is useless; even with headphones, the noise drowns out the radio.  The 30/30 is working well; the first half of the race is slightly downhill, and the even pace allows me to bank some time.  I am also avoiding unofficial water stops, for now anyway.

At 3 miles, I switch to 20/30 intervals, and the change on my app is seamless.  The heat is starting to take a toll, and the back half of the course is much steeper.  Walking breaks are longer and more frequent, but I am still hoping to finish under 80 minutes.  I am finding that my calibration of finish time is not very good, and at this point, I am just hoping for a healthy run.

I take the turn onto 10th Street with hopes of still making my goal time, but that fades with the narrowing of the road and the sea of humanity I will have to pass to achieve it.  I finish at 1:23, not terrible considering the conditions.  I got the bottle of water.  I got the finisher's peach.  And most importantly, the Peachtree finishers' t-shirt.  Time well spent.

My wife and daughter did not come to see me run this year, so for the first time, I had to navigate MARTA back home.  I had two options: walk about a mile to catch shuttle buses to Lindbergh Station, or walk a mile and four blocks to the Midtown Station.  Either way, I would have to go to Brookhaven and catch the bus home.  I went with the shuttle buses; there was a lot of waiting for both an empty bus and a northbound train at the station.  I hope that next year, my family members will attend, both for a ride and obligatory photos with the grandkids.

I already signed up for next year.  I am already evaluating all these things.  Isn't it wonderful?