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I'm not a runner. I'm also not a beer chugger. But I did both alongside my costume-studded compatriots during the Brew Mile Friday evening at Bright House Field. And they looked good.
Tutu-clad DIYers who fashioned their homemade skirts from tulle, various superheroes and what looked like a troupe of plaid-wearing Joe Dirts — some of them chugged and sprinted the whole way, and others began walking long before the third checkpoint — all gathered for the love of craft beer. Plenty of it outside the race, too.
Pushing through half of my last brew during the race, heart thumping and all, I thought, no one's in this for the run. Right?
...
The race kicked off at 8 p.m., right after we threw one back at the starting line, and I was doin' good the first quarter-mile. To our surprise, the run took us around Bright House Field and into a couple fields at the adjacent Carpenter Complex (at least I think it was a couple).
Warm Cigar City Brewing Maduro pours greeted us at the first checkpoint. Teams such as Malty by Nature, Chug Norris and The Karate Kegs drank in clustered groups with matching T-shirts. That treacherous brown ale ruined my momentum, though. I kind of knew it would. While I went into Brew Mile alone, I walked and talked with fellow beer milers the next quarter-mile.
A cup of Florida Cracker went down smoother at the next stop, but not by much. While gulping, I thought about the glamorization of violence against women in "Animals" by Maroon 5 after overhearing a conversation that praised the tune at check in (the video's more disturbing than the lyrics) and why I haven't invested in contact lenses, or a cord for my specs, for times like this. Oh, and red velvet cake.
I ran off and on to the last checkpoint, where I could hear an event volunteer shouting about Jai Alai as I got closer. IPAs are one of my favorites, so I was all, "I got this." Nope, definitely not. I couldn't finish it. The sacred institution of journalism couldn't even coax me into it. This is where I would've upchucked.
I finished the race in about 20 minutes. Brew Mile's more enjoyable, I think, if you stick with your pals during the run rather than going off on your own. Jog, stroll or sip and stroll through the route together. You didn't coordinate those funky socks and wigs for nothin'. Also, stay for the post-race festivities, and more beer.
One gal I met did just that.
Casey Reagan, who stopped me at the finish line to compliment my shirt, said she completed the run with her brother Caleb Reagan in around 10 minutes.
The Reagans, along with their friend Kim Marshall and Casey's girlfriend who asked me to reference her as C.L. Danger, made me an honorary member of their cape-donning team. Danger kept calling me a spy due to my journalistic ties until I left sometime after 9. I was into it.
Although I didn't get a nifty USA-themed cape like the rest of the foursome, I departed full of beer, with a new St. Petersburg posse and a yellow glow stick bracelet. Thanks, Casey.
Clik here to view.
I'm not a runner. I'm also not a beer chugger. But I did both alongside my costume-studded compatriots during the Brew Mile Friday evening at Bright House Field. And they looked good.Tutu-clad DIYers who fashioned their homemade skirts from tulle, various superheroes and what looked like a troupe of plaid-wearing Joe Dirts — some of them chugged and sprinted the whole way, and others began walking long before the third checkpoint — all gathered for the love of craft beer. Plenty of it outside the race, too.
Pushing through half of my last brew during the race, heart thumping and all, I thought, no one's in this for the run. Right?
...
The race kicked off at 8 p.m., right after we threw one back at the starting line, and I was doin' good the first quarter-mile. To our surprise, the run took us around Bright House Field and into a couple fields at the adjacent Carpenter Complex (at least I think it was a couple).
Warm Cigar City Brewing Maduro pours greeted us at the first checkpoint. Teams such as Malty by Nature, Chug Norris and The Karate Kegs drank in clustered groups with matching T-shirts. That treacherous brown ale ruined my momentum, though. I kind of knew it would. While I went into Brew Mile alone, I walked and talked with fellow beer milers the next quarter-mile.
A cup of Florida Cracker went down smoother at the next stop, but not by much. While gulping, I thought about the glamorization of violence against women in "Animals" by Maroon 5 after overhearing a conversation that praised the tune at check in (the video's more disturbing than the lyrics) and why I haven't invested in contact lenses, or a cord for my specs, for times like this. Oh, and red velvet cake.
I ran off and on to the last checkpoint, where I could hear an event volunteer shouting about Jai Alai as I got closer. IPAs are one of my favorites, so I was all, "I got this." Nope, definitely not. I couldn't finish it. The sacred institution of journalism couldn't even coax me into it. This is where I would've upchucked.
I finished the race in about 20 minutes. Brew Mile's more enjoyable, I think, if you stick with your pals during the run rather than going off on your own. Jog, stroll or sip and stroll through the route together. You didn't coordinate those funky socks and wigs for nothin'. Also, stay for the post-race festivities, and more beer.
One gal I met did just that.
Casey Reagan, who stopped me at the finish line to compliment my shirt, said she completed the run with her brother Caleb Reagan in around 10 minutes.
The Reagans, along with their friend Kim Marshall and Casey's girlfriend who asked me to reference her as C.L. Danger, made me an honorary member of their cape-donning team. Danger kept calling me a spy due to my journalistic ties until I left sometime after 9. I was into it.
Although I didn't get a nifty USA-themed cape like the rest of the foursome, I departed full of beer, with a new St. Petersburg posse and a yellow glow stick bracelet. Thanks, Casey.
