Run All The States!

My 200th race! Nope, that’s not a typo; I really do have a racing problem passion.

To commemorate this bicentennial moment, I ran the Charlotte Half Marathon in North Carolina — state #17 on my quest for 50. After my solo trek to Oregon, I was thrilled to reunite with my runventure buddy, Laura. [Cue the late ’70s R&B] Reunited, and it feels so goooood. We weren’t alone, either — Laura’s running squad joined in, forming a well-rounded crew of enthusiastic, slightly unhinged race junkies.

While researching the race, I learned that it was once called the Thunder Road Marathon and featured a NASCAR theme. As someone with less-than-zero interest in auto racing, I was relieved by the rebranding. No checkered flags or vroom vrooms here, just a stylish Queen City crown logo, a vibrant color palette, and some sexy sans serif typography. This is a rebrand I can get behind:

photo credit: Novant Health Charlotte Marathon Facebook page

Okay, back to run talk.

Puns, Sharpies, and Optional Medal Touching

First stop: the race expo at the Charlotte Convention Center. Right away, I spotted a punny “Charlotte’s got a lot” sign. They weren’t wrong! One of the more fun features was a bib decorating station stocked with colorful Sharpies. I briefly considered writing something absurd like “Butts” or “Fart Pickle” but settled for my actual name. So boring.

Nearby, the race medals were on display for admiration (and fondling, if that’s your thing). I, however, abide by a strict no-touching-until-earned superstition policy. The medals looked satisfyingly hefty, so I was prepared to wear mine proudly, even if it caused minor spinal distress.

With the expo behind us, it was time for the real pre-race ritual: carbs and beer. We hit up Unknown Brewing Co. for a sample flight, then fueled up with some pizza. With bellies full of delicious, pre-race sustenance, we headed back to the hotel for some quality sleep.

Charlotte’s Got a Lot… of Hills

Race morning was a brisk mid-30s, with a “feels like” temp of 25, eek. I wore every piece of clothing I packed: hat, gloves, long sleeve, short sleeve, tights, warm socks — oh, and shoes, because I’m not that much of a minimalist.

As we walked to the start, we chatted with local runners. The hot topic? Weather. Laura mentioned that back home, we were mired around 16-degree highs. A woman with a sweet Southern drawl gasped, “Do y’all still run when it’s… six-TEEN?” Yes, ma’am. And we complain about it the entire time.

Being Veterans Day, Old Glory was everywhere. Team RWB runners with giant flags, camo-clad participants, and badass ruckers filled the corrals. It was an inspiring sight. After an enthusiastic but completely unintelligible announcement over the speakers (something about “6,000” [muffled mumbling]), I received a good luck kiss from a sweet black lab girl. Best pre-race ritual ever.

The race kicked off with Mötley Crüe’s “Kickstart My Heart” — until the audio abruptly cut out the moment I crossed the start line. A different, completely unrelated song started playing moments later. Someone, please hug the audio tech because their day is not off to a great start.

Itsa me on the left in the yellow!

The first stretch took us past Bank of America Stadium, home of the Panthers, where giant, menacing panther statues stood guard. A few miles in, we hit a ritzy neighborhood with fancy-ass houses. I suddenly felt the urge to sip my aid station water with my pinky up. The tree-lined streets were drenched in fall colors, with just enough lingering green to remind us summer had overstayed its welcome.

At one point, I stopped to snap a photo of a sign that read “Only a shitload of miles left.” Before I could explain myself, two women frantically apologized, saying, “This isn’t an aid station!” Apparently, runners had been stopping all morning demanding water.

8.5 miles in, the rolling hills started to take their toll. Then came Morehead St, home to one big, rude hill. Thankfully, cheering crowds got us through, and soon we were rewarded with a sweet downhill stretch.

Then, I saw him.

A tiny, perfect puppy. I had to stop. His owner, not understanding the magnitude of the situation, urged me to “hustle!” Sir, I will hustle in a moment, but first — PUPPY! Okay, 80% of my stop was for puppy love. The other 20%? I really had to pee.

Back on the course, I could feel the hill fatigue. But as the downtown skyline came into view, I knew we were close! For a brief moment, I found myself alone in the finishing stretch, feeling like Shalane Flanagan winning NYC, except, you know, at a wildly different pace.

To my right, I saw a spectator sprinting while carrying a puppy — it was my new friend from earlier! His floppy ears bounced in sync with each step, providing top-tier finish line cuteness.

Post-Race Celebrations: Beer, Breakfast, and More Beer

I collected my weighty medal and headed to the finish line party in Romare Bearden Park. Fun fact: I actually remembered this artist from my many hours studying art history. Look at me, using my degree!

NoDa Brewing Co. had been hyping a special beer just for runners. Was it actually a new beer, or just their regular CAVU blonde ale with a purple #RunCharlotte label? No idea, but it tasted damn good. Since they handed out quarts of chocolate milks (seriously, WHO drinks that much milk post-run?!), I stuck with the beer.

For the third time that day, I saw my puppy friend, so I decided it was time for a proper introduction. His name was Cooper, and he was a wee 4 months old. I got to chat a bit with Cooper’s parents, and his runner mom also seemed stunned by my stopping to pet their dog mid-run. Hey, I race the same way I train — running mile after mile and petting dogs along the way.

After cheering Laura to the finish, we celebrated with tacos, an arcade visit, and more brewery stops. A lovely post-race itinerary.

With a late afternoon flight, we figured we’d sleep in, brunch, and head to the airport at a leisurely pace. Reality? We were ready to leave, like, immediately. We wandered the city until boredom set in, eventually landing in an Irish pub—surrounded by a massive Steelers fan base for some reason. As someone uninterested in football and unwilling to drink any more alcohol this weekend, I took on the noble role of luggage guardian.

That said, Charlotte, you were a blast. Here’s to another 200+ races and many more runventures!

North Carolinian Commentary:

• Overheard: “Ohhh yeahhh I’d like to get some of that at home!” (turns out, he was talking to his wife!)
• Best sign: “Hills are such assholes.”
• Best perk: FREE race photos!
• Cutest distraction: Cooper. Obviously.
• Most DIY: There were official-looking finisher photo backdrops but no official photographers. Each person handed their phone to the person behind them in line for a photo, an effective tag-team system.
• Most unexpected: So many people asked us for directions to places around downtown. Us, the out-of-towners in Michigan gear. Laura was even asked on the course about the course itself. Do we look like cartographers? And no, I still don’t know where Ink N Ivy is, sorry.