This morning, during our run (yay, I made it out!), Clare and I were moaning a bit about the logistics of getting to the start line of this weekend’s race. We have to go alllllll the way down to South Shore for a 7am start. This will involve dragging our butts to the blue line in time for the 4:41 train to get downtown on time for the 5:30am shuttle south.
Oh, the inconvenience!
Not only that, race packet pick up is at Navy Pier. The ennnnnd of Navy Pier! And, in order for someone else to pick up our goods, we need to give them our ID (a copy used to suffice), and a *notarized* authorization. Thanks to Clare’s husband, who works downtown, for “sorting everything out” for us, and procuring the packets.
But then I thought about all the folks who travel to Chicago for these events. The only reason I do as many races as I do is that they are in my own back yard, often in easy biking and/or transit distance. Do I sometimes get tired of starting at Montrose? Sure. But it’s 30 minutes away! No plane ticket and hotel required.
I love this city. (Except for our woefully underfunded public schools.)