Turkey sighting (and then some) on Thanksgiving Day

A while back, a friend of mine told me about a race he participates in every year, the Detroit Turkey Trot. I had heard of this race, but only through mentions of local television reporters who would air the story as I'd sit back on my reclining sofa snuggled up in my comforter and plush morning slippers.

This year has been somewhat of a turning point in my life, where I have found myself having changed from an occasional yet somewhat sedentary athlete to someone who can't go for over a week without doing some kind of blood pumping activity. That is why hearing of the race peaked my interest. I knew I'd have to run throughout the winter, so why not obligate myself to do so by entering myself in yet another race? I knew it would be fun (races always are), and I figured I'd see friends at the site that day too. Thus, it was decided. I was going to race in the Detroit Turkey Trot on a brisk Michigan Thanksgiving morning.

Fast forward to November 22, 2007, 6am. I woke up to find snow on the ground -- the first snowfall of the year. The temperature must had dropped a good 15 degrees from the day before. I touched the cold glass on the window (my personal and somewhat reliable testing method of seeing how cold it is outside before I even walk down the stairs) and made the decision that I would use my new winter running gear that I had just purchased in Islamorada, Florida (of all places) just weeks before.

With coffee in hand and all bundled up, I went outside, brushed the snow off my car and headed towards Detroit. Somehow the time had seemed to pass by faster than expected, and I found myself slipping behind the schedule I had set for myself. At first, the traffic was light, though I was surprised at the amount of cars on the road on such an early Thanksgiving morning. Wasn't the evening prior to Thanksgiving the biggest bar night of the year? Why are all of these people on the road? Shouldn't they be nursing their hangovers? Ahh, I digress...

The closer I got to the Cobo Center (the site of the start and finish line of this race), the more congested the traffic became. I knew that all of these people congregating in this particular spot surely weren't here to race in the Turkey Trot. They were, however, probably coming in for the big Detroit parade that immediately followed. And the traffic jam that I found myself in was likely a result of that.

My original intention was to park at the Cobo Center, which opened up their lot for $3 to the runners that day. Since I had only gone about 50 yards in a five minute period, however, I knew that if I stayed on this course I'd surely miss the race. So I veered off, and parked about three blocks away.

The sun hadn't come up yet, which was a bit surreal for me as I ran through the dark and bitter cold towards Cobo. By the time I got to the race site, I was thankful that I had parked so far away. The short run did me some good to warm up my body. I entered the building to find hundreds and hundreds of runners who had congregated for this same event.

Almost immediately, I found myself smiling. Not because I felt like I was in good company, not because I knew I made it in time before the start of the race, but because of all of the crazy outfits that I was surrounded by. These people really WERE crazy! They dressed up in an array of interesting, holiday-themed outfits. I saw a number of elves, santas, and turkeys. It's as if I walked into some costume party where people were competing for the best outfit. After a while, I almost started feeling out of place because I was dressed up as...well...a prepared runner ready to face the bitter cold. How vanilla.

The start of the race was approaching fast, so I corralled myself outside with the rest of the runners. I huddled myself in the middle of the pack, to protect myself from the wind. After a brief (not brief enough when you are standing in the cold!) word from the race sponsers, the final countdown began. 10. 9. 8.....3. 2. 1. GO! Yes, I can finally start moving again...if only the people in front of me would move. I waited. And waited. And waited. I was getting ancy. The seconds seemed like minutes, so I moved myself onto the sidewalk to pass the people who hadn't yet had the opportunity to get moving, as if I were a car illegally veering onto the shoulder to bypass a traffic jam.

That appeared to be a great solution, and I finally was able to get past the congestion because of it. I realized soonafter, though, that it may not have been the best decision because there was one key element that I had missed...going over the chip-reader to start my race clock. Do I turn around and go over the reader, or should I just continue on, knowing that I had started the timer on my watch? I knew I wouldn't win any medals, I was here for the experience. So I elected to press forward, knowing that my time may not even show on the official results.

As soon as I started running, I started warming up. The temperature was 34 degrees, but it didn't seem to bother me. I was more concerned for some of the people that ran by me, like the two young gents whose outfits merely included their running shoes and their speedos. (What crazy guys to not use boxers, I'm sure they offer much more insulation.) And then there was the Christmas tree. She was slow, but she looked toasty warm, perhaps even overheated.

Running past the parade gallery was a new experience. It was fun for me to visualize that only a few hours later, gigantic parade floats would travel down these same roads, bringing delight to the children who would huddle together to stay warm as they sip their hot cocoa. I was amazed to see some of the set-ups that people had put together for their parade-watching venture. They ranged from people in sleeping bags on chairs, to camping tents, to RVs, and even a few fully assembled hunting blinds. THOSE people looked warm!

My run took me all the way around the Detroit Institute of Arts. At the 5K turning point, there was a Detroit City police car emmitting "Sunny Days", the Sesame Street song, from its speakers. Strange choice of songs, I thought, as I listened to the echoed melody filling the air for miles. That song would continue to play in my head long after the race was over. Thank you, Detroit City Police, for that.

Around one hour later, I found myself back at Cobo with the finish line in sight. I sprinted hard towards the finish line and crossed it with the clock showing 1:02:53. Not bad, though I had hoped for a goal of under one hour. I knew my time would be different than the clock, though I wasn't sure if I'd ever get an official read because of the fact that I didn't go over the chip reader in the beginning to officially start MY time. I looked down at my race watch, and to my delight, it showed 0:59:45. I had done it! I had completed the 10K race with my personal best time.

I was amazed at the amount of people that I saw running that day. There surely didn't seem like that many people when I started...where did they all come from? Where had they been hiding? It turns out that this race was the biggest Turkey Trot race in Detroit history, with over 9500 registrants and 7500 finishers. I did see a couple friends through my Team in Training group, though I didn't see everyone that I knew would be there, including my friend that had originally suggested that I run the race. He was at home, sitting on his sofa nestled in a comforter with plush morning slippers on, nursing a cold (or perhaps a hangover).





In Good Company
Among all of the outfits that I saw today, this was by far my favorite. The race just wouldn't be the same without the fine employees of Dunder Mifflin.