Cresskill 10K - the aborted race

Having participated in 74 races, I understand how difficult it must be to stage a race, especially in busy, overpopulated Northern New Jersey. The logistics must be staggering - obtaining the permits, getting police cooperation for road closures, hiring a timing company, promoting the event, getting shirts made, securing food and drink, requesting volunteer help, having the course certified by USATF, and making sure the whole thing goes off without a hitch.

I also understand that races that are still in their infancy will always have some bugs to work out. 

However, there are certain things that absolutely, positively need to be addressed and perfected before any race starts, and the most important one is the need for clear, proper signage and/or volunteers to ensure that runners stay on course and in the proper direction.

In this blog, I have chronicled several occasions in which this particular inadequacy has caused major problems (American Legion Leonia 10K, Fortitude for First Descents Marathon, Sprint for Soldiers 10K), but none have caused a complete abortion of the race until yesterday's Cresskill 10K.

Even before the signage became an issue, there was a huge problem at the start: the 5K participants - including the walkers - were lined up about 50 yards in front of the 10K runners.

Take a minute and picture that in your head: Fast 5K runners in front, slower 5K runners behind them, then walkers, then 10K runners. You read that correctly - fast runners (albeit very few) behind a gaggle of walkers.

Needless to say, we were practically mowing everyone down at the start of the race. Things were starting out badly and it would only get worse.

Sometimes, the worst positions to be in are the front of the middle or the back of the front, where you are too far back to see the leaders, but too far ahead to be chasing anyone. This happens to me often with small races, yet I still foolishly signed up for this very small 10K on a whim. My second-best ever in Newark last month felt like a springboard to a potential PR and my training has been spot on for it.

Fellow 10K runner Rob Albano (the amazing runner that I met two years ago at the Pompton Plains Apple Chase 10K) managed to push though the throng and get out in front of even the 5K racers and I followed quickly behind. By the first mile marker, Rob was out of sight and I was in second place with no one behind me. When the pace bicyclist caught up to me, he assumed I was in the lead and he stuck with me. I found out later that Rob had managed to hook up with a police motorcycle that guided him through the course.

That was lucky for him, but unlucky for me. 

The signs were easy enough to follow for the first two and a half miles, during which I was on track for a PR. The bicyclist and I then came to a somewhat confusing intersection with two signs - one with straight-up arrows that said "All runners" and another pointing left that read "10K return". My instinct was to follow the "all runners" sign, but the cyclist and the volunteers on the course all told me to turn left.

Though it was later determined that my instincts were correct, I followed the instructions given to me and turned, only to come upon another intersection with no signs at all. The bicyclist was as confused as I was. He told me to turn right, but after a few blocks we both realized we were off course.

My race was blown. I told him to point me back to the start/finish ar the rec center and to go back and check for other lost runners.

Upon returning, I found the race director, Julie Balay, and told her the 10K got screwed up because of the signage problem. She seemed to get defensive (and who could blame her?) and sternly told me about how that was impossible and that she put those signs there herself that morning. I tried to explain that even the lead cyclist got confused and informed her that there may be lost people out there, but she seemed stuck on the idea that I was challenging her ability to direct a race.

Thankfully, the cyclist got back and vouched for me. Still, when I requested a refund, Ms. Balay was not immediately accommodating, claiming that the race shirt alone was worth the registration price and that I should understand that "it's supposed to be a fun event".

Trying my best to hide my incredulity, I explained that I did not come for the shirt and I would gladly give it back. Plus, fun (and charity) aside, I paid $35 to post a time on a USATF certified course. The race was promoted as such and, through no fault of my own, I did not get what I was promised. All of the intense training that built up to that race was blown away because the signs were not crystal clear and the volunteers were not well-enough informed of the course. I certainly was not going to let them keep my 35 bucks.

Ms. Balay finally relented and, thankfully, her attitude shifted from negative to positive, which went a long way toward making me feel better. In addition to agreeing on my refund, she asked that I come back next year, assuring me that the start-line issues would be worked out and the course problems would be addressed.  In the weeks since, we have had a pleasant exchange of emails about what happened, how to pay my refund, and what can be improved for next year.

In the end, Ms. Balay understood my plight as a runner, just as I understand her plight as the race director. There is nothing more important in racing than that dynamic, because in the end, if a runner pays to participate in a certified race rather than go for a typical Sunday run, there is an agreement between the parties involved - runners follow the rules of the race and directors give runners a well-organized chance to compete.

Otherwise, as happened last week at the Cresskill 10K it was lose-lose - Cresskill Public Schools did not get my money and I did not get an official race time - possibly a PR - posted.

Incidentally, the incredible Rob Albano, with the benefit of the motorcycle, won the race and beat his goal of 32 minutes. Kudos, Rob!