Amanda's race weekend report, part 1!

Friday, May 15: Expo Madness

The race weekend starts off with a trip to "the expo" to pick up my bib (the race number that goes on the front of your shirt). I lurk a lot at The Loop, the Runner's World on-line collection of blogs, and have read many an entry where the author "stopped by the expo for a while" or "picked up an awesome new pair of shorts at the expo" or "got my picture taken with [famous runner] at the expo!!!" I've never been to one before and have no idea what to expect. I have this image in my head of a mashup of the Mall of America and an old-school church revival with a dash of amusement-park-style waiting in line thrown in.

But before we can see the expo, we have to get there. The directions printed on the info sheet are wrong, and downtown Cleveland is filled with one-way streets, no-left-turn intersections, and bus-only curb lanes. This results in a seasickness-inducing series of right turn-right turn-right turn-right turn course corrections and a steady stream of muffled cursing from the driver (yours truly). Once we finally locate the convention center, its parking garage is (of course) full. We manage to turn into an underground garage across the street and wade through row after row, level after level of occupied parking spaces. We runners are geeky overachievers: the expo opened at 11:00, and 14,000 of the 15,000 runners already seem to be here at 11:10.

We finally snag a spot in a far corner of the lowest part of the garage four floors below street level. I feel like we've fallen down a well. Mom didn't get much sleep last night and isn't feeling all that great, so she's going to stay in the car and nap. It's just as well, since Dad and I are going to have to walk a 5K just to get to the freakin' expo from here. We eventually emerge topside and enter the convention center only to be directed down a seemingly endless hallway, several flights of stairs, more tiled hallway...I finally decide that the organizers wanted it this way. We have to prove we're fit enough to race.

The bib pickup area is nicely organized. Each sign on the wall has a number range in it, and you line up at the sign that includes your race number. There's a computer terminal at the end where people can jog their memory. I obediently stand under the correct sign, and less than five minutes later, I have my number in hand. On to the expo!

The expo area is huge. I've only captured the center part of it in this picture. The area right in front is filled with people from Rite Aid, the title sponsor (it is called the Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon, after all--they get the center position because they've kicked in the big bucks). They're offering free BMI/blood pressure/glucose/cholesterol testing. I can't imagine you're going to get too many runners with a high BMI, though...

The race shirts and goody bags are being handed out at the very, very back, meaning--you got it!--every runner and his/her entourage has to walk down the aisles and look at the vendors and their wares. It's like the grocery store always putting the milk at the far back corner and making you walk past a whole aisle of cookies and chips to get there.

There are vendors selling everything a runner could possibly want: shoes, socks, hats, bandanas, sunglasses, gels, sandals (to let your tortured tootsies breathe after the race), lotions, shirts, shorts, and pants. After I get my goody bag and my GORGEOUS blue race tech tee, Dad and I chuckle at the sayings on a rack of novelty t-shirts. Our two favorites are "If found on ground, please drag over finish line" and "Does this shirt make me look FAST?" There are also booths for a slew of other races. The Toronto Scotiabank Marathon looks really fun. Maybe someday...

Of course, Team in Training has a booth at the expo. We were all instructed to stop by and pick up our race-day shoe tag. If you look closely at the table, you'll see a bunch of TNT chapsticks taped to those cards--the very same chapstick swag I got at the signup meeting back in December! Ty and Lee are doing a fine job manning (and womaning) the table.

I was going to head back to the car after that, but the speakers' schedule catches my eye. At noon, there is going to be a course analysis and discussion. It's now 11:40. And the Cleveland Clinic is here offering a free foot assessment and shoe recommendation, which catches Dad's eye. He decides to get his feet assessed (for walking/hiking, not running) while I attend the course analysis session.

See, doesn't this look impressive? I am sure the course analysis is going to knock my socks off!

I am still standing in line with Dad when I see a familiar figure take a seat in the speakers' area. It's Melissa! I squeal in a decidedly unladylike fashion and run over to her.

She is still the best dressed Team in Training member. And apparently she had to kvetch to a security guard to get a bottle of water. All these vendors in here, and not one of them is selling water! Seems a bit dumb, considering you've got a horde of people under orders to hydrate themselves silly as part of race prep. (Oh, and that guy with his arms crossed in the back corner of the picture? That's my dad, waiting in line for his foot assessment.)

Melissa and I chat and look at our watches. 12:00 comes and goes. 12:10. The two or three other people waiting with us give up and leave. 12:15. Finally, some guy meanders over around 12:20. Since we are the only ones still there, he just sits down in the front row of seats and turns to face us. He goes through his general remarks, and then Melissa and I pepper him with questions. We don't learn anything earth-shattering. Oh well. Before he leaves, we have him take our picture. Probably his most useful contribution.


My dad is just leaving his foot assessment when I come back over. "I need stability or motion control shoes," he says, looking up quizzically from the piece of paper he's holding. "And I have high arches. Can you translate?"

To make a long story short, my dad soon becomes the proud owner of a pair of Adidas Supernovas. He likes them so much that he insists on keeping them on and wearing them home. I find it hilarious that my dad is the one dropping some coin at the expo!

(Next entry: Saturday's pre-race mania, including acres of pasta and a surprise flower delivery!)