On July 3^rd, my wife, Zach Finney (another Tuscaloosa runner), his sister, and I went to see the Atlanta Braves. It was hard to imagine that 8,000 more people would be running the Peachtree Road Race than the spectators that saw the Braves get pounded by the Expos 17-1. I hoped that my fate would be better than the Braves.

The race packet stated three truths to the race: prepare for a hilly course in high heat and humidity, get to the trains early, and leave your ego on the bedpost. These are true statements, expecially the part about the trains. Taking MARTA to the Lenox mall was as similar to the old fraternity pledge prank of seeing how many people could fit into a VW beetle. The train was packed with runners, spectators, and various other riders. But there was excitement in the air, and the day was just underway.

After the mass exodus from the train, Zach and I proceeded to go to our time group. (1A) This race has nine time groups, a subseeded group, and the seeded "elite" runners. The race may be more fun in the back, where the people dress in non-traditional running attire (suits, clown outfits, Ms. Liberty…) and the atmosphere is not as serious as in time groups 1 and 2. However, as we walked to the starting point, all we could see is people. People everywhere: especially at the top of the hill where the race was to start. The scene was highly organized, with plenty of dedicated volunteers to direct runners to their designated starting area.

Because we were in the group that was immediately behind the front 1,000 or so, Zach and I walked right past the world-class athletes. They had a lot of space to warm-up in, and they seemed very calm. Our time group was placed in a chute that was packed like sardines with no room to stretch, let alone warm-up. If one hadn't already accepted truth #3 (ego), it was evident at this moment.

My race started as I said to Zach-"Hey, I think we're going." It was impossible to hear the gun, but necessity dictated moving now. The 2,000 or so in our time area had started to jog towards the starting line. Wall-to-wall runners moving down Peachtree Street. I crossed the line about a minute after the race had officially begun.

The first mile was crowded--it was impossible to move-up or back because of the crowd. You had to keep pace up this gentle hill. On the edge of the road, spectators lined the course shouting, holding signs, and holding cups of water. Miles two and three were more of the same-except more people, signs, and the occasional band playing tunes like "Play that funky music White Boy."

At mile three, while still in the midst of the sardine run, I started to notice people standing on the side of the road with race bib's on. This puzzled me at first--why would someone who is running be standing on the sidelines at the mid-way point. As the race continued, I found out why. Some people cheat to get the shirt: they would just jump in, run a mile or two, and collect the shirt. Is a T-shirt worth this? I guess so, to some people. This was the only negative spot of the entire experience--more often than not, these 'runners' could not keep up with the pace, and would interfere with the flow of the run.

The climb to mile four is known as "Cardiac Hill." It is a mile long ascent that is as steep as the hill on University Boulevard from Arbys to DCH. At the top was a DJ that welcomed us to the hill. At this point, truth #1 was screaming in my body-hot, humid, and hilly. Fortunately, mile four is downhill.

However, mile five has a steeper 1/2 mile climb, followed by a sharp 1/2 mile descent. The spectators were thickening, but the runners around me were not. The finish was uphill--but at that point, I was happy to have survived the run.

There are two clocks at the finish-the official race time and the T-Shirt clock. The T-shirt clock starts when the last person has crossed the starting line: if that clock reads over 1 hour, five minutes you don't get a shirt. This clock had not started by the time I was finished.

Locating friends and family in Piedmont park was simple in theory: stand next to balloons that had letters on them. As more and more runners entered the park, it became very crowded. When Zach and I finally met up with my wife and his sister, it was 9:10-fifty minutes after I had completed. As we left the park at 9:45, the T-shirt clock was right at one hour: it took 1 1/2 hours for all the runners to cross the starting line. That is amazing.

The Peachtree Road Race is an incredible experience. I would never of thought that a Bryant-Denny sized crowd would, or could, fit onto a six-lane street in Atlanta for a run that was filled with hills, felt hot, was humid, and was lined with another Bryant-Denny sized crowd. That sums up my Peachtree Experience…people everywhere. (If you want to do this run, you have to register in March. Over 70,000 apply for the 55,000 spaces available.)