But here's why I love Disney as an events company so much: There is absolutely no organization on this earth better than Disney at managing the brand and the experience. Every time I've been to a Disney park as an adult, I've spent the entire time wandering around, mouth agape at their seamless logistics and attention to detail. The illusion of a perfect alternate reality is so flawless, that the crackpots mentioned above flee to the parks to escape a world that includes rape, wars, and skid marks on your underwear. In the nasty butt crack of southeast LA county (arguably the skid mark of California's underwear), Disney has created a small oasis where everyone is smiling, and a day of standing in long lines surrounded by stressed out families and overstimulated kids is an enjoyable experience. That ability is why I am in awe of Disney, and that's why theirs are among the best races I've ever done.
Compare Disney races to the Rock & Roll series (the worst of the national junk race franchises). Both attract a slower, fleshier, less "serious" crowd who are mostly there for the bling and the t-shirt. R&R delivers on the bling and the t-shirt, but designs the most ugly and boring courses I have ever run. I imagine the discussion with the local permitting office goes like this: "Hey, we've got 10,000 assholes who want to run 13 miles... any 13 miles really... to earn a shitty 5lb medal that they'll never figure out what to do with, so they'll hang on a door knob for the next decade. What combination of streets would be easiest for you to close? The one that goes past all the porn shops and pawn brokers... sure! We'll just put our giant blow-up guy with a guitar there to make it a little more cheerful... Oh yeah, and we promise to make them pick up their numbers the day before, so they have to stay in your shitty city overnight. Sure... we can make it on a Saturday so they have to take the day off of work. No problem. We don't give a shit about these people, they think San Jose/St Louis/Philadelphia/San Antonio is fucking Mecca. Obviously they're a bunch of morons."
R&R's signature "perk," the terrible bands that are set up every mile or so, are ignored by most of the runners who run the entire course with headphones in their ears anyway. If you ever took your headphones out (and seriously, why would you?), the band would sound like atonal wall of sound for the first 100m as you approached, then you would get about 4s of a really bad Journey cover, before it dissolved back into a fading wall of noise as you ran away. When I started running I carried walkman because portable CD players never did really master playing without skipping. Since I used the same 3 mix tapes on almost all my runs, I got into the habit of racing without headphones, since I was sick of my music anyway. Instead I would soak up the course around me and engage with other runners and spectators. But ever since everyone got an iPhone, no one will engage with me because they all have their damned headphones in their stupid ears. R&R caters to exactly this demographic. They do not enjoy the act of running, they are dissociating from the experience until it is over. They are out there for one reason and one reason only: To hang that dumb medal around their neck wearing that t-shirt (which they probably ran in), and then post the pictures on Facebook. They wouldn't care if they had to run through nothing but construction sites and the city dump to do it, because they never look up from their countless apps giving them feedback every 45 seconds on their 12-min per mile walk-run pace. I'm not saying that there is any shame in walking, or running slow, or being a data hound. But we have devices that store all that data so your can dissect it later in your living room. Put your phone in your sports bra, or that douchy fanny pack thing that you bought at the expo for $37, look up, and enjoy the fucking experience. This is not supposed to be torture, and we are not "crazy." This is supposed to be fun.
...At least I'm having fun...
Disney on the other hand takes their attention to detail and excellence at managing the experience, and puts on the best damned races that you can run without qualifying or entering a lottery system. Sure, there are other great race production companies: Boston Athletic Association, World Triathlon Corporation (Ironman - as much as I hate to say it), and whoever run CIM come to mind. I'm sure that the New York Road Runners, and whoever run the Chicago and London marathons are equally excellent. But those are companies with long histories of catering to serious athletes who are focused on performance and the experience, not the medal collectors and shameless "like" hounds. RunDisney is the only race series aimed at "woggers" that I will willingly and gleefully participate in. The courses are so exciting that I am constantly having to manage my enthusiasm so I don't run so fast that I puke before the end. And the spectators are Disney employees with all of the Disney friendliness and enthusiasm. Even the bands are polished (take that, R&R)! More on this later...
All this is to say, even though I am in terrible running shape right now and couldn't find anyone to come to Disneyland with me, I still wasn't going to miss this weekend of running. I did have a friend that was supposed to come with me, but she is newly arrived in California, and when her moving truck was delayed by a couple of days, she had to stay back in the Bay Area to meet them. I decided that one did not have to go on rollercoasters to enjoy the Disney experience. My preferred way of enjoying any place is by running or biking through it, and I could still enjoy the shit out of my favorite Disney things (there are bathrooms everywhere, and yet you never see them unless you're looking for them!) just by running the races. Fuck it! This was going to be fun, dammit.
The Disney races all start at 5am. No one would choose to start a race that early, but this is Disneyland and as long as you can peel yourself out of bed, a mouse-shaped cloud will carry you effortlessly and blissfully through the rest of your morning until you wake up and realize that you're already in the middle of having fun. Walking from my hotel to the starting line at a brisk pace at 4am was enough to get me sweating. The sun hadn't even risen yet, and it was already 75º with an un-desert-like humidity. It felt like a fat, sweaty, hairy man with the build of Sully from Monster's Inc (whose name I learned this morning) were giving me a bear hug. And yet despite the heat, there were people in full costume. I walked into Corral B with a man wearing a full, fuzzy abominable snowman suit from some movie I did not recognize... complete with a tray of snow cones that "really smelled like lemons" (according to the volunteer that took the time to exuberantly sniff them).
Obviously it was full dark at this time of the morning, and I was curious to see what was going on up ahead where a Disney events person was walking with a baton of LED lights held high above her head. As I got closer, I saw that she was escorting a blind runner and his dog. No matter how jaded you are about Disney, you must respect their treatment of people with disabilities. Most races think to provide blind and deaf runners with a vest, but Disney thinks to have someone there to stand as a beacon in a crowd so that that athlete doesn't get overrun in a crowd. Disney has a lot of experience with people with disabilities. Just look at all that they've done with the Make a Wish Foundation. Back before the Americans with Disabilities Act was a thing, Disney made all of their parks accessible to kids in wheelchairs, and built separate ride entrances so that kids with disabilities could enter the ride with whatever special considerations they needed away from the prying stares of the crowds... many of whom were children their own age. In fact, my obsession with Disney logistics began when a friend whose brother has cerebral palsy took me to the Orlando parks. He knew ever bit of Disney trivia from a lifetime of family vacations to Disney World twice a year. Why? Because it was the only place where they could go and his brother could be included in the vacation. I don't care how hard your heart is, or how much you disagree with the North-Korea-like rigidity of Disney. You've got to at least respect them for their decades of treating kids with disabilities with dignity.
Disney is also the only race where I have ever seen an ASL interpreter for the pre-race chatter. Most ASL interpreters I've seen alternate between expressions of poised dignity and looking like they're choking on an avocado pit. This Disney interpreter had brought the Disney sparkle to her signs. I don't understand ASL, but I could tell that this chick was signing with all the enthusiasm and wholesomeness that the MCs were using. You could practically see Tinkerbell sparkles coming out of her fingertips. Last year (yes, I did this race 2 years in a row), the ASL interpreter was wearing costumes that matched theme of the other characters on stage (old west for the Country Bears Jamboree and fez and hammer pants for Aladdin). This morning's theme was Monsters Inc, so I guess it was okay to be in all black.
That's the other thing about Disney; they are fanatical about protecting their brand. You will never see a character outside of their environment. If you order a birthday cake at the Disneyland hotel (and I know this because I have), then you can only choose from a handful of "traditional" Disney characters: Goofy, Micky, Pluto, Minnie, Donald. If you want Elsa, Ariel or Buzz Lightyear to present you with the cake, then you have to pay hundreds of extra dollars to have the whole room done up in that character's theme. Because Elsa would never be seen in a conference room that wasn't made out of ice and decorated in a traditional Scandinavian style, and so they can't have you posting pictures on Facebook of her in the Cinderella ballroom. Duh! When you run along the course, you'll notice that the characters are always in the appropriate setting, or traveling in a moving diorama, so your pictures of Sleeping Beauty is in Fantasyland, and Jack Sparrow is in Frontierland... NEVER on Route 66 next to Lightning McQueen. (Take note: R&R, where I once ran through 2 sets of high school cheerleaders each doing different cheers from opposite sides of the road... at the same time. R&R's motto must be closer to, "Eh, fuck it.)
Disney's fanaticism about pictures is another thing that I find fascinating. It is someone's job to sensor all of those pictures that they take of you on the rides. If there is something objectionable in your race photo as you're running through Cinderella's castle (say you flip off the camera), or from the "oh shit" moment at the top of Splash Mountain, then they won't sell you or even show you the photo. I know this because last year our Tower of Terror photo wound up in some Disney censor's recycle bin. We managed to grab a screenshot of it off the app and scoured it for what could possibly be objectionable about our tearful and screaming faces. It took several minutes for us to find the girl in the first row who somehow had managed to get herself into a ballet pose with her leg perfectly vertical against her head. A "cool" pose for sure, but Disney cannot have pictures out there of people doing dangerous things. Or else it might catch on. And then someone could get hurt. And that could besmirch their image. People simply can't get hurt on Disney rides, you see. So the ballerina picture had to go, even though there were 3 crying 30-somethings in the back row that were willing to pay any amount of money for that picture, but most certainly were NOT willing to go on the ride again to get a new one.
Disney really is like a G-rated Soviet Union (I would love to tell you about my deep dive into the Disney gulag, but I will save that for another time...). And yet, most people's perception of the place ranges from neutrally quaint to fanatic, rabid life-long fan-dom. Disney does not stand for my closest-held American value of freedom of expression, and yet if the director of the parks arm of Disney ran for president, they would have my enthusiastic vote. Well, week-old defrosted TV dinner would have my vote over the guy we have in there right now, but that's beside the point. Disney takes away your freedom of choice, and gives you back a spick-and-span version of America that is far superior to the one we have today.
But I didn't just come down here to geek out on my idolization of Disney as a business, a production company and a brand. I also came to run. Or I had committed to run anyway, even though I found the idea unappealing at that moment. I'll skip telling you about how the national anthem singer was talented enough to give me goosebumps and get to the running part. The race starts running around backstage for about half a mile before you turn into the Cars set. I found this heart stopping last year when I came in through the gate and found myself running through the southwest, lit better than God Himself usually lights the real thing. Then you run through the Bugs and around the midway with all the lit water jets in the lagoon and with the rollercoaster as the background. It really is fucking magical.
Here's the problem that I have with Disney races (of which I am only slightly ashamed to admit that I've done 5... and will have done 5 more by January): I get so excited running through the parks, that I almost always wind up spending the morning battling puke. But here's the thing: Disney even does puke well! Last year when I finished the 5K and yacked my guts up, there was someone there before the puke passed my lips with a little doggie poo bag held in a sort of embroidery ring that was the perfect size to fit around my nose and mouth. She handed me my puke hoop and gently guided me to a quiet corner where I wouldn't be in anyone's way, or attract gawkers with my retching. She discretely never asked me if I was okay (a problem when every time I try to speak I wind up loudly spewing instead), just let me puke it out until I was done. As someone who pukes often I appreciated both the privacy away from curious eyes, and the discrete place to deposit my stomach contents (which on this and many other mornings, included beet juice). This year I had skipped the beet juice, and I did not want to find out if the custodial staff cheering us along the course also stocked the puke hoops in their satchels.
The parks really aren't that big, so you have to spend large chunks of the race running "backstage" to fill out the 10K. Since these are areas where only cast members may enter (oh yeah, and it's also 5:30 in the morning on a Saturday), that means that Disney also has to provide the spectators. Last year this was really impressive, with members of the third custodial shift as well as other graveyard shift workers bringing their Disneyness and cheering like each runner were a member their own family. This year I don't know if there was a different shift manager, or maybe if they wanted to keep the number of people around down because of budget or terrorism or something, but there were many fewer cast members back there this year. Everyone backstage seemed to have a job other than cheering. Like flashlight waving, or water handing out, or empty cup raking. That's probably for the best, though, because if I'd had more people cheering for me, I most certainly would have puked from running and excitement.
I do have to give a shoutout to the 2 spots where they did have live music along the course (are you paying attention, R&R??). Throughout the parks, they had a mash-up of several feel-good songs, set to fade into the next every 10s or so. I'm sure that Disney had a reason for this: either so that the songs would never compete as you moved from one speaker zone to another, or so that the music was never the same from one diorama to the next. Aside from that, in one spot backstage and another in the parking lot right before the finish line, they had live music. They had chosen styles of music that sound good from both near and far, so it didn't sound like just a wall of sound as you ran by. In the parking lot there was a swing band playing "Sing, Sing, Sing." And backstage under the monorail (in a spot that we passed twice), there was a drum corps. Man, I fucking love drum corps. If I had any idea where to find drum corps music, I'd run to it all the time, and gladly puke every morning from the excitement of it. As I came around the corner, my face must have lit up because I locked eyes with one of the female drummers and she flashed a brilliant Disney smile at me and pattered her drum with even more feeling. I decided that being in the drum corps could make up for even the most severe basketball ponytail, and that being in a drum corps was sexy as hell. Drum corps girl, if you're out there, call me!
By the time I got into the Magic Kingdom side of the park, somewhere around the third or 4th mile, there was no amount of excitement about running through Tomorrowland or Cinderella's castle that could make me run too hard. My shirt was so soaked that when I pulled it away from my skin at the photo points, it would make a loud slurping noise as it sucked away from my skin. I kept getting side stitches -- something that hasn't happened to me since I was a kid. What was weirder, they kept switching from left to right. My muscles felt awful, and even though muscle cramps aren't a thing I suffer from either, I felt like I was flirting with some massive ones in both sets of hamstrings and calves. I tried running slow, but there was nothing but walking breaks that were going to get me to the end of this thing.
I promised myself that once I entered the Magic Kingdom I would run all the way to the end no matter what it took. I am not one of those people who can't run 6 continuous miles! And yet, somewhere around that terrifying whale that ate Pinocchio, I had to walk. Then, only a few minutes later, despite my sincere desire to plug through the last mile, I had to walk out the park exit as well. Now we were in the territory where real spectators could cheer us on, and one girl who saw me walking shouted, "Come on! You can make it! Just keep it up!" And her cheering did make me wish I had run a little further... just so I could have a full stomach of oatmeal to projectile vomit in her face to prove my point. Not even one final pass of the drum corps could bring my body back in line.
I used to be someone who ran in the heat of the afternoon. I used to ride my bike to work at 3:30 in the morning in Boston in February. I once rode 70 miles on a fixed gear in a blizzard. I once ran 20 miles with bronchitis. But after 7 years in the Bay Area, and 3 years of only running before sunrise, I have lost all resilience to all kinds of weather. Depending on where you're from, temperatures below 40º and above 65º are normal, but for my body anything outside that narrow band signals a catastrophic disaster and my systems start to shut down. I did eventually make it to the finish line, deliberately not looking at my time.
As I walked through the finish area, I could feel the sweat sloshing and squelching in my shoes. The first chance I got to unburden myself of my phone and finish line water bottle, I took off my shirt and wrung it out. Look at the video: at least 8oz of water must have come out of that tank top alone, let alone what was in my hair, socks, shoes, pasting my shorts to my legs, and what I had dripped onto the ground along the way. As I type this, it is 104º, and the hourly forecast says that it will be equally warm for tomorrow's half marathon.
Now I am choosing to see it as a small blessing that I am spending my day in my air conditioned room drinking lots of water, rather than endless loops on Splash Mountain to keep myself cool. Oh... and I took advantage of the cheaper used bikes in LA to buy myself a new commuter. But that is a topic for another time.
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