Rio Grande Half Marathon
Whose bright idea was it to run a race in New Mexico in August? Oh. Right. Mine. In hindsight, maybe I should’ve chosen the Albuquerque’s Great Balloon Chase Half in October. But October was already booked for another state, so… burning alive in a desert inferno it is!
I arrived in Albuquerque on Friday for Sunday’s Rio Grande Half Marathon. Every day was 95 degrees and sunny enough to cook a quesadilla on the sidewalk. I looked wildly out of place in long sleeves and pants, but the UV index was approximately 900 and I like my skin the color it came in.
Downtown Albuquerque felt oddly deserted. Sure, school wasn’t in session yet at UNM, and August probably isn’t peak tourist season, but it was weird how few people were out. Maybe locals know better than to go outside. Even the tumbleweeds were like, “nah.”
First priority: food. I made a beeline for the Range Café and housed some glorious huevos rancheros. Then I wandered over to Sidetrack Brewing for a beer, because hydration is essential.
Olympics, zoo animals, and Breaking Bad tourism
I had a slow start Saturday morning, but for good reason — Team USA was playing for gold in the women’s soccer final. I cheered (and snacked on leftover huevos) as we brought it home (I say “we” as if I helped). GO USWNT!
Fueled by Olympic glory and carbs, I walked 1.5 miles in the heat to ABQ BioPark Zoo. (Yes, walking way too much before a race is still on brand.) The animals were mostly napping in shady corners, but the elephants and giraffes were active, and the penguins were swimming elegant laps like feathered Olympians. A 2nd birthday party for Mashika the ape was happening, and she looked like a very satisfied guest of honor as she grabbed a present.
Next up: Old Town. I trekked over to visit the Breaking Bad Store and Museum, because how could I not? I loved that show (still need to get caught up on Better Call Saul!), and seeing props from the set scratched a very specific fan-nerd itch. On the way, I passed the Dog House Drive In — home of the animated neon wiener dog sign, which is as magical as it sounds. If only I’d seen it at night when it was fully lit and wagging its little tail.
In all its glory, as seen on Better Call Saul:
One of the rooms in the Breaking Bad museum:
Eventually, my stomach started grumbling again (shocking), so I wandered into the Sawmill District and ended up at Sawmill Market, which is basically a fancy food hall. I stood there in indecision-stupor until my nose led me to tacos. Again. As if fate led me there.
Final stop: Bow & Arrow Brewing, where I did a tasting flight and pondered how much my feet hated me. I finally made the wise choice to get a Lyft back to my hotel so they could recover before the actual race.
Cue the race logistics chaos
Two days before race day, we got an email confirming the start/finish at Balloon Fiesta Park… which was 11 miles away from my hotel. Huh. Everything else — the race website, my registration receipt — still listed a completely different start line, a short walk from my hotel.
I emailed the organizers like “Hi… what?” and they confirmed: yes, the start was at Balloon Fiesta Park. So I set a Lyft for stupid-early o’clock and hoped for the best.
My Lyft driver picked me up at 5:20 a.m. We pulled into a giant, pitch-black field at Balloon Fiesta Park at 5:30 — the exact time packet pickup was supposed to begin. It looked like the opening scene of a horror movie. A couple trucks, some headlights, zero signage, and not a soul in sight.
Thankfully my driver was a legend (shout-out to Adrian!) and stuck around to confirm we were in the right place. (I was fully expecting an alien abduction plot to kick off.) Eventually a tiny crew began setting up a few folding tables using one lonely light pole. Another runner arrived a while later, and we exchanged confused “I guess we’re early?” shrugs.
This was… not what I expected. But maybe this race is super low-key and all the locals knew not to show up until the last possible second.
Race start: now with actual people
As the sky lightened, more runners began trickling in. By 6:30 a.m., with the sun rising beautifully over the Sandia Mountains and temps in the low 70s, we were off.
The course was described as running “from Balloon Fiesta Park to the beautiful Albuquerque Bosque and back, with views of the Rio Grande, cottonwoods, the Sandias, and the New Mexico sky.”
Technically accurate. But allow me to elaborate.
The first few miles were along a path beside a mysterious concrete trench — possibly a drainage channel, possibly a covert alien landing strip. Official term? Who knows. I just followed the course arrows and tried not to melt. Downtown ABQ was off in the distance, but the immediate scenery was a little… industrial.
At one point, I saw a runner (not part of the race) running on the outside of the path railing on a narrow 12-inch ledge with a sharp drop-off. Ma’am, no. Please come back to safety.
Next came a freeway-adjacent section — some fun overpasses in case you were craving elevation. Not the prettiest, but I was still feeling decent and only sweating a normal amount. The pre-race email promised water stations every 1.5–2 miles. Reality: one water stop around mile 2.5… and then nothing until mile 10.5 (the same one, again). No water at the turnaround. Not ideal. Especially on a warm August morning.
A mirage of aid stations
Around mile 5 we turned onto Bosque Trail, a path along the Rio Grande — lovely views, minimal shade, and some cyclists zooming past at Mach 10. But hey, hot air balloons were taking off in the distance, so that was pretty cool to see.
Seeing the front runners zoom back at you is always fun on an out-and-back course — until you start wondering, “Where’s the turnaround? Are we there yet?” (Spoiler: we were not.)
The turnaround was marked by… a dry, lonely cone. No water. No fanfare. No motivational sign. Just a u-turn back into the blazing sun. Cool cool cool.
I paced myself carefully, knowing the aid situation was, uh, sparse. I wasn’t overly thirsty, but I didn’t want to get close to the line, either. Still no spectators, but maybe the folks in the hot air balloons were silently cheering for us from above.
The final stretch + watermelon salvation
Back near the canal, I passed one runner receiving medical attention and hoped they were okay. At least there was medical staff, even if water was in shorter supply.
I eventually made it back to the park and crossed the finish line… to discover that the post-race beer and food were already gone. Not like “running late” gone — I mean gone. No breakfast burritos. No beer. Only piles of watermelon. (To be fair: extremely delicious watermelon.)
I collected my vibrantly southwestern-themed medal, snapped a few dusty victory photos, and got out of that hot parking lot ASAP.
Beautiful, hydrating watermelon:
Recovery, ABQ-style
Brunch at Grove — also seen on Breaking Bad — was my consolation prize. It was packed, and my order took forever, but the sweet potato hash hit the spot. Thankfully, unlike the race, they still had food.
I finished the afternoon with a beer at a quiet brewery patio, where there were several excellent dogs to pet. Which, frankly, made up for most of the morning chaos.
Sometimes you take a chance on a race with few reviews and hope for the best. Sometimes it’s a hidden gem. Sometimes it’s a “well, that’s done — next!” With better communication and more aid stations (like, more than one), this could be a fun locals race. But for us out-of-towners? Maybe not the best pick. At least the desert mountain views delivered.
Hot Takes from the High Desert
- MB 1, Lydia 0: I avoided any ricin-laced stevia packs from Walter White
- Mirage-oasis sightings: 4
- Times sunscreen was applied: ~592
- Water stations promised: Many
- Water stations delivered: Two (if you count passing the same one twice)
- Animals more hydrated than me: All of them
