Montgomery Half Marathon
Race #30 brought me back down South — this time to Montgomery, Alabama — for the half marathon and a crash course in U.S. civil rights history. I came ready to fill my brain and (hopefully) not fry in the process. The forecast had been ping-ponging between “perfect” and “apocalyptic thunderstorm,” but by the time I landed, it had mellowed into light drizzle and overcast skies — prime museum weather. Race day itself looked clear, which meant I could worry less about electrocution and more about hills.
Southern Hospitality and Generous Crosswalks
Montgomery’s downtown was calm and walkable, and I noticed a few things right away:
- The crosswalk timers are absurdly generous. Like, 80 seconds to cross a two-lane road? Are we all assumed to be pushing a cart full of bricks?
- Everyone is incredibly polite. Every interaction included a “ma’am,” as in “yes ma’am, thank you ma’am, the museum is closing in 5 minutes and you need to leave, ma’am.”
- Where are all the dogs?! By day two, I was starting to panic. My important side quest — “Pet dogs in every state” — was in serious jeopardy. Had all the pups in Alabama gone into hiding?
Museum Mode: Engaged
First stop: The Legacy Museum, which traces the legacy of slavery, racial terror, segregation, and mass incarceration in America. It’s haunting, powerful, deeply informative — and beautifully done. I spent hours there and still didn’t get through everything. The exhibits were immersive and impactful without feeling like they were trying to Disney-fy trauma. My only gripe? The sensor for the jail cell hologram wouldn’t detect me. I kept triggering and un-triggering the video. Am I a ghost? A vampire? Unclear.
The next morning, I walked to the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, which honors over 4,400 Black individuals lynched between 1877 and 1950. The monuments — giant steel slabs suspended overhead, one representing each county — create a visual and emotional gut punch. It was as heavy and beautiful and important as expected.
“A Mighty Walk from Selma,” a cool mural depicting the 54-mile march from the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama to the State Capitol in Montgomery in March 1965:
It had stopped raining, which was ideal since I didn’t bring an umbrella, because I never learn. Lunch was a BBQ feast at Dreamland because meat-loading is as good as carb-loading for a race, right? (The USDA doesn’t have to agree.)
A Historic Surprise and a Biscuit Monster
Friday brought a double museum day. I had a little time to kill before my Rosa Parks Museum ticket slot, so I wandered over to the Freedom Rides Museum… and accidentally ended up attending a talk by actual Freedom Rider Dr. Bernard Lafayette. This man was arrested 27 times for civil rights activities, casually sang a song he wrote in jail, and spoke like it all happened last week. I tried to blend in with a nearby college group, nodding sagely like, “Yes, we discussed this in seminar.”
The Rosa Parks Museum was smaller than expected but still a solid stop. I started with the kids’ “time travel” exhibit — yes, cheesy, but hey, I love a cheesy educational diorama. The main exhibit featured a dramatic bus reenactment (not THE bus — shoutout to The Henry Ford Museum in Michigan!) and a solid overview of the Montgomery Bus Boycott. Not as much Rosa Parks-specific info as I wanted, but still very worth it. Only $5, too!
Then it was off to Montgomery Riverwalk Stadium — home of the Montgomery Biscuits, whose googly-eyed, butter-slicked logo is one flailing appendage away from being a Muppet. The expo was small but mighty, and I learned the race field was around 600 people. It was a pleasant departure from the usual “welcome to your weekend: enjoy being herded like livestock.”
The weird little biscuit guy:
Let’s Get Hilly
Race morning = sunny and perfect. I jogged over to the start line on Tallapoosa Street, a breezy 5-minute walk from my hotel. With time to spare, I even waited out the full crosswalk timer, just because I could.
The race started at 7 a.m., and we hit the hills immediately. We passed a cemetery with a Hank Williams Sr. memorial (RIP, but no ghost sightings please), and then into a lovely park where I pet a dog named Jeff Beck. His owner had a sense of humor, and Jeff was very good at being pet. Phew — Alabama does have dogs!
The course wound through Alabama State University (weirdly quiet, but also: Saturday), and then into the dreamy, springtime-blossoming Old Cloverdale neighborhood. Gorgeous. Green. Slightly uphill.
I must’ve looked like a zombie because a woman driving by leaned out of her car and yelled, “You got this, baby girl!” in the most heartfelt voice. Honestly? I needed that. That stranger’s energy fueled me for at least half a mile.
The course started getting… long. Like, “each mile marker is 0.5 miles late” long. At mile 10, the guy next to me shouted, “That thing ain’t even close!” A nearby spectator shrugged and said, “A bus just dropped me here, I dunno,” and I laughed hard enough to forget my hip flexors were threatening mutiny.
This amuses me:
Also at mile 10: another brutal hill past the governor’s mansion. Montgomery doesn’t play when it comes to elevation. She’s got curves.
At one point, I overheard a pair of runners doing intervals. One was ready to break into a run, and the other snapped, “No! We run at the cone. ALWAYS at the cone.” I respect the discipline. Cone or bust.
We finally got a glorious downhill past the Capitol — sweet relief — and looped into Riverwalk Stadium for the finish. I had dreams of running the bases, but we stuck to the outfield. Still cool.
And with that, State #30 was complete! That’s 60% of the way to 50. It sounds impressive until you remember 60% is technically a D-minus. But hey, it’s still technically a passing grade.
I wrapped the weekend with more BBQ and a visit to Common Bond Brewing, where I got to chat with the owners and one of the race pacers. We traded race stories and laughed about the unnessary long course and plethora of hills. Great beer, great company, great cap to a memorable race weekend.
Odds, Ends & Awards
- Safety Pin Scavenger Hunt: My expo bag had only two pins. I thought it was a mistake, but no, two is all you get. I had to do the “uhhh sorry, could I possibly…?” beg routine. Got the goods and my bib would stay put.
- Best Overheard: “Spaghetti in the middle of my carpet.” No further context. No further questions.
- Most Dedicated: The woman doing 15 miles by repeatedly doubling back. You are the ultra among us.
- Best Aid Station: Full-on 80s cover band. Wigs, neon, keytar. Iconic.
- Coolest Swag: A nice metal water bottle with the race logo. My Camelbak bottle had just busted, so your timing is impeccable, Montgomery.
- Bonus Perk: Two (2!) beer tickets per bib. Bless.