Run All The States!

Typically, I put some thought into planning my out-of-state running adventures. There’s a whole ritual: I Google the heck out of big races, scrutinize their websites, and devour runner reviews — all while lounging on the couch with my cat, mainlining sugary snacks. I weigh factors like travel logistics, race amenities, and what the host city has to offer (bonus points for historical landmarks or quirky attractions). And sorry, but if your website and medal are ugly, I will judge you accordingly.

But every now and then, I throw logic out the window and sign up for a race on pure impulse. This was one of those times.

My windburn from my Wisconsin race was still fresh when my fabulous friend T texted me about a half marathon on the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe — just a month away. Hmm. I had been eyeing the Las Vegas Rock ‘n’ Roll Half for Nevada (because running the Strip at night among its neon chaos sounded like a delightfully absurd experience). But a surprise trip to see my friend — you may remember her from my California race adventure — also sounded fun. I hesitated for about three seconds. Then she hit me with: “Also, there’s a Blues & Brews Festival in Reno the same day, just in case you didn’t just run enough and need more beer.”

Before my brain could stage an intervention, I was registered. Well played, Lake Tahoe, you got me again.

The Adventures of MB and Sir Hot Pants

T’s boyfriend — henceforth known as Sir Hot Pants — was also running Rock Tahoe, his first halfie. The morning of the race, he and I hopped on a big yellow school bus (with seatbelts? When did that happen?!) to the start line at Spooner Summit. We’d be starting at around 7,000 feet and dropping 800 feet over the course of 13.1 miles. My weak, asthmatic, sea-level lungs were very into this.

Despite some toasty summer days leading up to the race, the morning was crisp and sunny — perfect running weather. While other runners bundled up in sweats, I confidently shivered through the start line in my t-shirt and shorts, knowing I’d be comfortable in approximately 0.7 miles.

The airhorn shrieked, and we took off down Highway 50. Normally, 10 miles on a highway would sound less than thrilling, but this highway hugs Lake Tahoe, and the scenery was absolutely beautiful. Mountains? Sparkling water? GET OUT OF HERE WITH THIS BEAUTY.

Nearly every turn in the road revealed another perfect photo op, which was great except for the people who would stop dead in their tracks to take photos. I get it — Tahoe is a total show-off — but please, step aside before you become a speed bump. Adding to the chaos were construction cones, barrels, and signage, which meant our running lanes alternated between spacious and “good luck squeezing through here.”

Somewhere around the midway point, we ran through Cave Rock — a literal cave! Through a rock! My childhood belief, based entirely on Scooby-Doo, was that every cave contained either bats or a vampire lair, but I saw neither. Just an extremely scenic tunnel of darkness.

Emerging from the cave, we were greeted by yet another obnoxiously beautiful lake view and a surprise guest: the abominable snowman from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer! Why was Bumble on the course? No clue. But honestly, why not?

Aid Stations That Understood the Assignment

Rock Tahoe’s aid stations deserve a gold star for their excellence. Volunteers handed out Red Vines, Swedish Fish, pretzels, oranges, and bananas. The very first station had watermelon cubes with toothpicks in them, because apparently, we were doing elevated race cuisine. Mile 9 had champagne. Another station blasted “I’m Too Sexy.” The pre-race emails promised “surprises,” and I had secretly hoped David Beckham would be waiting at an aid station with a basket of puppies, but this was also fine.

For a brief moment, I thought I was dying. I spit to the side of the road and saw bright red in my saliva. On no, this is how it ends for me: hemorrhaging internally. Then I remembered: I had just eaten Red Vines. Carry on.

After miles of glorious, quad-thrashing downhill, the course threw in some rolling hills near the end, including a slow, winding climb that lasted approximately forever. With just a 5K to go, we left the highway and ran through Round Hill Pines, Nevada Beach, and Rabe Meadow — because at this point, why not throw in a few more devastatingly gorgeous landscapes?

It me:

Finishing Strong… in a Casino Parking Lot

The final stretch took us back to the highway, where we rounded a corner and charged toward the finish line in the Hard Rock Casino parking lot. T and Sir Hot Pants were waiting and cheering, and as I crossed the line under the giant, absurdly unnecessary Hard Rock guitar, I was immediately handed a can of Sierra Nevada Torpedo.

Wait — unlimited beer at the finish? Tahoe, I love your style.

Sir Hot Pants and I decided to get finisher photos together. The photographer suggested a fun, goofy pose where he lifted me up. Great! Except that as soon as I jumped into his arms, we both realized he was grabbing my boob. But we had committed to the pose, so there was no turning back now. Please excuse my slouchy posture.

To date, this is the largest medal I’ve ever received. SO VERY METAL! (And SO MEDAL!):

Reno, Blues, and Questionable Tubing Decisions

Post-race, we grabbed breakfast at a tiny mom-and-pop diner before heading to Reno’s Brews & Blues Festival, where we were greeted with “sample pours” that were definitely not sample-sized. My inner 90s kid rejoiced when Everclear took the stage.

To close out the weekend, we went tubing down the Truckee River the next day. In Michigan, “tubing” is a lazy, carefree activity. So imagine my surprise when T casually mentioned, “Oh, we’re about to go over a small dam.” I was not emotionally prepared for a dam situation. But I survived.

Nevada, you were a delight. Rock Tahoe, I rocked you.

Nevada Notables:

• Math class dropout: The runner who gleefully shouted “Halfway!” at mile 5.
• Biggest oops: T and I accidentally took a wrong turn on a “short” pre-race hike and ended up lost in the wilderness. Eight miles later, we made it out. Oops.
• Best overheard quote: [Said to passing drivers] “Roll down your windows; it smells like mountains!”
• Best race sign: “There’s only one direction to go” over a photo of One Direction.
• Most unexpected expo offering: Free Tahoe Blue Vodka shots. I don’t even like vodka all that much, but it was free, sooo…
• Bonus perk: Having a friend who is a badass Pilates instructor to fix your stubborn piriformis.