Run All The States!

New year, new state, same mission: run my way across the country. Late January took Laura and me to Jackson, Mississippi, for the Mississippi Blues Marathon. Technically, I had been to Mississippi before — if you count a 10-minute pit stop on a road trip where I snapped a photo with a “Welcome to Mississippi” sign and a cardboard Elvis. So yeah, I was basically a local.

First Impressions: Hospitality or Hysteria?

Our arrival in Jackson was met with some… mixed messaging. The first person we encountered, an airport staffer, beamed at us and said, “Welcome to Mississippi. We friendly here.” Nice! Then, about 10 minutes later, our Lyft driver casually warned us, “You probably shouldn’t walk around too much. This area isn’t great.” Oh, okay then. At our hotel, we met Larry, the concierge, who reassured us our driver was overreacting and that the area was “perfectly fine.” Not 30 seconds later, as we were leaving the hotel, another staff member said ominously, “Y’all be careful now.” Just as I was preparing for the next ominous warning, she added, “We just put the wet floor sign up.”


So, in summary, Jackson: friendly, safe, dangerous, slippery.


The Expo: Guitars, Blues, and Outdated Technology

After fueling up on coffee, we made our way through downtown Jackson, which gave off strong Detroit vibes — pockets of lively activity mixed with a few more… vintage areas. The expo was energetic, featuring a blues band rocking out in a hallway barely big enough for a conversation, let alone a concert. Each runner’s swag bag included a blues CD, which would’ve been a fun touch… if I still owned anything capable of playing CDs.

Naturally, we took advantage of the oversized cardboard guitars for some goofy photos. You can’t give runners giant props and expect them to act like adults.

A Heavy Dose of History

Next, we dove into the Mississippi Civil Rights Museum and the Museum of Mississippi History. The history museum was a fascinating mix of exhibits covering everything from indigenous tribes and steamboats to Mississippi’s pop culture contributions. Most importantly, I found a button that played upbeat steam calliope music, which I hit at least six times — probably annoying every other visitor in the vicinity.

Then came the Civil Rights Museum, a powerful and sobering experience. One room housed a massive tree carved with the names of over 600 Black people lynched in Mississippi alone, while graphic depictions of violence lined the walls. It was a necessary, gut-wrenching look at history — one that leaves you uncomfortable, as it should.

To recover from the emotional weight of the museum, we headed to Cathead Distillery, where we discovered that Mississippi has some… creative alcohol laws. Despite being in a distillery, we couldn’t actually order a drink unless we did a full tour and received a few tiny sample pours. However, they could sell craft beer they didn’t brew. Confused but determined, I ordered a beer.


We wrapped up the night at a small blues bar, which was mostly empty (probably because it was 5 PM and we were running on elder traveler time). The best part? They had special marathon runner pricing. Nothing makes food taste better than knowing you got a deal.

A Race Forecast of 100% Rain (and 100% Accuracy)

Spoiler alert: when the forecast calls for rain all day, sometimes the meteorologists actually get it right. With my new rain jacket on, I accepted that my upper half would stay dry while my feet would become waterlogged for the next 13.1 miles.

Laura and I braved the drizzle, making it about 12 steps into the hotel parking lot before a car rolled up. Two women leaned out and offered us a ride to the race. Years of “never get into a car with strangers” training evaporated instantly as we said, “Sure!” Our new friends were excited to finally run after the 2017 event was canceled due to ice. Ick, no thank you. I can get all the helpings of ice I need in Michigan. I’ll take your 50-degree rain.

Getting ourselves psyched up for a rainy run

The Race: Potholes, Marching Bands, and a Sudden Timewarp

The race started in front of the planetarium, and all distances took off at once, leading to some congestion in the early miles. At least the Jackson State University marching band was there to entertain us, even if the rain meant their drums were doubling as splash zones. Oddly, for a Blues marathon, I didn’t hear much blues music along the course. I’m guessing that most musicians took one look at the weather and said, “Nope.”

The course itself was… interesting. Pothole-filled streets, surprise gravel sections (did we sign up for a trail race?), and a few stretches where cars were just a little too close for comfort. But we also ran through a beautiful neighborhood with fantastic crowd support, even in the rain. I spotted some very good dogs but, tragically, none wearing cute little raincoats or galoshes.

A polite grim reaper with the voice of a southern belle

At mile 9, the race took an unexpected turn — literally and historically. Without warning, we passed through a gate and were suddenly running down a muddy road lined with old-timey buildings. General stores! Blacksmith shops! A gas station with antique tractors! I half expected a horse-drawn buggy to pass me. A nearby runner summed it up perfectly: “Where are we?!” Indeed, or better yet: when are we?!”

After exiting the accidental time machine, it was just a couple of miles to the finish line near the Mississippi Museum of Art. If it had been sunny, I’d have loved to explore the park, but instead, I huddled indoors with a coffee, waiting for Laura to finish her marathon.

With soggy medals in hand (mine was a guitar, which allegedly was supposed to be glittery, but the level of sparkle was underwhelming), we celebrated with barbecue and drinks before wrapping up the trip. Mississippi had now officially been experienced beyond a rest stop and an Elvis cutout, and I had a soaked pair of running shoes and a colorful guitar medal to show for it.

Mississippi Miscellany

• Most questionable moment: At the museum security checkpoint, I saw a bin containing two folding knives and some bullets(?!?). Casual.
• Best overheard race quote: “<blech!> That was definitely Skoal-flavored GU.”
• Biggest lie: (paraphrased) “The medals will be fabulously glittered!” Narrator: they were not.
• Facepalm moment: I unknowingly filled the hood of my rain jacket with water. When I sat down post-race, it dumped all over me.
• Estimated number of puddles stepped in: 347.