Run All The States!

With a St. Patrick’s Day half marathon, surely I’d have some luck on my side, right? [Narrator: No, not so much.] Well okay, spoiler alert — Atlanta is hilly, and I, a naive fool, did not know this. But a weekend in Atlanta sounded fun, with plenty to see, do, and, well, run.

The Calm Before the Hills

Jack and I rolled into town a couple of days early, ready to play tourist. Besides the obligatory World of Coca-Cola and Georgia Aquarium, we had no real plan. Step one: hotel check-in. Step two: packet pickup.

Turns out, the expo location was nowhere near downtown, but okay, no big deal. Just a semi-quick MARTA ride and a shuttle. The term “expo” was used very loosely — it was basically a DJ, a few vendor tables, and a lonely Clif bar sample. No fun stickers or magnets for my race collection, just bins of leftover Atlanta Track Club shirts and a surplus of uninspiring freebies (I’m good on cheap sunglasses, thanks). The highlight was a giant mural where you could sign your name or deface it in the spirit of St. Patrick’s Day. (Or maybe because Publix’s brand color is green? Who’s to say?)

From there, we grabbed a late lunch and some beers, then wandered through Old Fourth Ward en route to Ponce City Market, a place my friend had recommended. A former Sears building turned hipster paradise, it boasts shops, a food hall, and a rooftop with mini golf and carnival games. The rooftop views of the city were quite excellent. The giant slide we went down was better. Sorry, kids, it’s adults only — hahaha, suck it!

Since we were already near the Beltline pathway, we took a leisurely stroll to another brewery. The weather was pleasantly cloudy and strollworthy. The highlight of this walk? Two adorable American foxhounds named Lucy and Snoopy, the latter of whom proudly carried a toy in his mouth the entire time. A perfect gentleman.

The Penguin Encounter

The next day’s agenda had one priority: penguins. Specifically, an up-close-and-personal visit with an African penguin at the Georgia Aquarium. You can bet your tail feathers I was excited.

We got to meet two penguin ladies, Cheekoo (not sure on spelling so I’m going phoenetic) and Lizzy. They waddled in looking deeply intrigued by us, and I, in turn, stared at them with full-on lovey eyes. The trainer gave us fun facts about their habitats and conservation efforts, but honestly, I was too busy marveling at their tiny feet and feathery waddles to absorb much. One of them did take a tiny poo near me, but the sheer cuteness of their tail shimmy afterward canceled out any ick factor.

I pet this penguin

The Georgia Aquarium is huge, so we spent hours exploring. Otters! Sharks! Seals! Puffins! A sea lion show where one particularly large boy named Diego let out a noise best described as “HRNNNNNNGH!” The place was packed, partially due to ongoing construction bottlenecking the crowds. At one point, we were funneled out through a side exit straight into the cafeteria, where kids were watching a puppet show on the floor. There was truly no escape.

After filling our marine-life quota, we grabbed dinner (BBQ — unintentionally adding to my streak of eating BBQ in nearly every race state), played some arcade games, and called it a night. Morning would come early.

Race Day: Hills, History, and Hustling

Just before 7 a.m., I made my way to the start line in Centennial Olympic Park. It was in the low 40s, crisp and perfectly runnable. Everything was decked out in green, including festive balloons and a pre-race bagpiper to set the Irish mood.

Despite being a “big city” race, it didn’t feel that big. About 11,000 runners were doing the half, full, and 5K combined. Even the host hotel seemed indifferent to the event — no race morning bananas, no “good luck” or “welcome runners” signs, just pure apathy. (At least pretend to care, Hyatt. Gimme a half-hearted high five or something.)

Soon, we were off! We snaked through Five Points, past Georgia State, and up Piedmont as the sun finally started making an appearance. We hit Old Fourth Ward, and suddenly, I was face-to-face with Ebenezer Baptist Church, where Martin Luther King, Jr. once preached. A cool moment, though my deer-in-headlights race photo suggests I was less awed and more confused.

The next few miles took us through scenic, tree-lined streets, with hills that just wouldn’t quit. The crowd support was solid, with spectators cheering from their balcony brunches. The course led us into the rolling terrain of Freedom Parkway near the Jimmy Carter Center, where a nearby runner sighed, “UGH, I remember this hill,” with the kind of dread usually reserved for tax season. Thanks, dude, now I’ll remember it too.

By the time we reached Virginia Highland, I was questioning everything. How big is Freedom Park? I swear I saw at least eight signs for it. A sign reading “Irish I was faster” summed up my feelings, as the rolling hills kept coming. At least Piedmont Park’s greenery and downtown skyline offered a nice distraction.

A quick detour through Midtown, a pass by Georgia Tech, and finally, we were back on Marietta Street. I summoned the last of my energy, kicked it into gear, and crossed the finish line. State #22, officially complete!

Post-Race: Coke and Celebrations

After some much-needed refueling, we did the most Atlanta thing possible: a visit to World of Coca-Cola. Yes, it’s essentially an elaborate ad for Coke, but there’s history too — old signage, memorabilia, and a vault containing the secret formula (which an employee will scold you for getting too close to). The best part was clearly tasting Coke flavors from around the world. Highlights included Zimbabwe’s Sparletta Sparberry and Thailand’s Fanta Melon Frosty. But then, Beverly happened. This Italian aperitif is so bitter it made my soul leave my body. You could track when other visitors tried it based purely on their horrified reactions.

Once we peeled ourselves off the tasting room’s sticky floor, we wrapped up the day with celebratory sushi and a stop at an Irish pub. It was still St. Patrick’s Day, after all.

Before heading to the airport the next day, we squeezed in one last visit: Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historical Park, including his birth home, final resting place, and Ebenezer Baptist Church. A fitting, reflective way to end the trip.

Final thoughts: Atlanta served up history, penguins, a solid race, and a betrayal of hills. Would I run it again? Eh, maybe. Would I visit again? Absolutely. Preferably with fewer hills and more Snoopy the Foxhound encounters.

Onto the next state!

Things I Thought While Eating Post-Run Snacks:

• Oops: I, a fool, grabbed the wrong suitcase at baggage claim. Didn’t realize until Delta called me. What are the odds that someone else at the same carousel had the exact same bizarro kitty print on their bag?!
• Best Overheard Out of Context: “I wish I was… educated.” (Same, girl. Same.)
• Chances I’ll Ever Feel Properly Trained for Hills: Slim to none.
• People Handing Out Green Donuts: A solid three. Unexpected, yet appreciated.