Run All The States!

Ah, Nashville! The land of honky-tonks, hot chicken, and, apparently, NFL Draft madness. Normally, I’m pretty good at checking for major, city-wide, disruptive events before booking a race, but this time? Nope. Zero clue. My first hint that something was up? When hotel and airfare prices made me audibly gasp. Whoops. Cue the good ol’ road trip and a hotel just outside of town to save my wallet.

But hey, this race weekend came with an excellent bonus: getting to spend the weekend with my sister and celebrating our recent birthdays!

Road Trippin’

Our journey began in rainy Ohio (shocker), but by the time we hit Kentucky and Tennessee, spring was out in full force, and everything was bright, warm, and happy. Less happy? My phone, which simply refused to acknowledge local time. My sister’s phone updated just fine, but mine had apparently decided we were in some sort of time zone purgatory. This was messing with my brain more than I care to admit. After several confused attempts at figuring out what hour it actually was, I finally broke down and asked a waitress, “Uh… what time is it? Like…actually?”

Once in Nashville, we hit up the race expo at Music City Center, and wow, it was way better than I remembered from my last Rock ‘n’ Roll event in New Orleans. More vendors, more variety, and an absolutely massive Brooks section. But the real MVP of marketing? Race shirts with thousands of participants’ names printed on the back. Naturally, I had to find mine. And naturally, I had to buy one. Classic Brooks, pulling me right in.

The race area map needlessly overcomplicated — I’ve seen less complex schematics for building a spaceship.

Broadway, BBQ, and Butterfly Murals

Post-expo, we rewarded ourselves with burgers and beer (a crucial part of any proper race prep). We also hit up a brewery where the beer looked far better than it tasted. I won’t name names, but let’s just say it rhymed with “yeah boo.”

Meanwhile, Taylor Swift had just dropped her new single (“ME!”), and because the universe has a sense of humor, we accidentally stumbled across the butterfly mural she commissioned and was unveiled in The Gulch just a couple day earlier. The line to take photos was insane. I love a good photo op, but waiting an hour for a picture with a wall? Nah, not for ME! or US!

Broadway was absolute chaos with the NFL Draft festivities — so much so that even the traffic lights were repping the NFL. (Thankfully, the roads were closed to cars, so no one had to worry about getting ticketed for turning on “N.”) We took in the madness, played some retro arcade games, devoured more BBQ (because, of course), and called it a night.

Race Morning: The Great Parking Disaster

The plan was simple: my sister would drop me off near the start. The reality? Gridlocked traffic trying to park at the stadium. After sitting in an unmoving line of cars, I finally bailed and hoofed it across the pedestrian bridge to downtown. So much easier. And at this point, what’s an extra mile, anyway?

The start area was a sea of runners — over 30 corrals deep. If they’d labeled them alphabetically, they would’ve run out of letters and had to go full hurricane-season mode with the Greek alphabet. Also, the corral system was…let’s say, “loose.” Runners could just line up wherever, which meant an interesting mix of speeds (and walkers) in every wave. But hey, at least the weather was perfect—low 50s, sunny, and calm. Ideal PR conditions (if, you know, I had actually trained for a PR).

Hills, Puppies, and Party Vibes

We kicked off with a nice downhill on Broadway (yay!)… followed by an immediate uphill past Bridgestone Arena (less yay). Even though I’d done more hill training post-Atlanta, this course was still out to humble me.

About a mile in, I passed a guy live-streaming about his ill-fitting shoes. Bold strategy. Hope that worked out for him.

We ran down Music Row and through Belmont, where the rolling hills never let up. The saving grace? Fantastic crowd support and so many dogs. I pet two corgis, one of whom was named Newman, and passed a dog proudly sitting next to a sign that read, “Is everybody chasing squirrels?” 10/10 best spectating crew.

Around Mile 5, we hit a full-blown block party. It was technically before the actual mile marker, but hey, close enough. Music, cheering, fun signs, and even mid-race Jell-O shots and beer if you were feeling extra bold. I didn’t want to be a rude party guest, but I still politely declined.

The course wound its way through The Gulch (oh hey, the butterfly mural again!) before heading toward the state capitol and Bicentennial Capitol Mall State Park. By this point, my legs were toast. Hills, man. Also toasty? The weather, which had crept into the 70s. But the increasing sweat helped distract me from the oddly specific pain in my left big toe knuckle. I blamed the hills, just because we don’t seem to get along.

Finally, we crossed the Cumberland River and into the Nissan Stadium parking lot for the finish. The crowd was amazing, and my sister was waiting at the finish line, YAY!!! The medal? A small guitar, but it did have tiny blinking lights, which I must admit is a first in my medal collection.

Post-Race: Tacos, Whiskey, and a Cat Named Pizza

After a trek through what felt like an endless finish chute, I reunited with my sister for a sweaty hug and immediately demanded tacos and beer. (And a shower, because, well… yikes.)

Next stop: Corsair Distillery for a belated birthday cocktail. Yelp had promised a distillery cat named Copper, but when I asked the guide, I learned Copper was MIA. However, inside the taproom, we met another cat — Pizza, a sassy tortie who strutted right up to our seats. The bartender informed us that Pizza was the superior distillery cat because Copper was allegedly kind of a jerk. I accepted this at face value because, honestly, I respect a spicy ginger cat.

Nashville, you were chaotic, hilly, and weirdly delightful. Would I run this again? Maybe… but next time, I’m definitely checking the city’s event calendar first.

Nashville Nuggets:

• Most bizarre sponsor placement: Bubba Burgers had an inflatable arch on the course for no apparent reason. No burgers, no samples, no nothing. There was no meat-themed aid station, no burger giveaways, nothing. A guy next to me perfectly summed up all of our confusion by muttering, “The f—-?!”
• Best snack offerings: Gushers (YES), pretzels (yay salt!), and all the usual post-race goodies.
• Most self explanatory: Barefoot Elvis was also running this race
• Overheard on the course: Woman: “Woop woop!” Man: (turns around, startled) “I thought that was a siren. That was… a woman.”
• Toughest decision: A group of friendly women offered me a Dolly Parton sticker in exchange for taking their photo. I had to choose one from a wide variety. I went with a cute blue one.
• Weirdest moment: While tasting Corsair’s vanilla vodka, I caught a very unfortunate smell from the direction of a bachelor party. I turned to my sister and whispered, “I taste vanilla… but I smell farts.” A true sensory betrayal.