Rock ‘n’ Roll Mexico City – Part 1 (Oh My Goodness Gracious, Getting My Bib)

Friday, March 24th, 2017
Aurora filling out her custom forms at the Mexico City airport

(stretching (always stretching) while filling out my customs form in the airport)

Picking up from yesterday

I don’t see a single American around me anymore. Let’s all remember, I don’t speak Spanish. I’m holding all my luggage (and a coat). And I have no idea where to get my bib at his giant place in Mexico…

So, I’m running around from tent to tent, trying desperately to find someone who speaks English. But I can find no one.

Then I find the VIP tent. Well, okay, right?

I mean, if any tent is gonna have a) all the info b) people who speak some other probably popular-ish languages, it’s gotta be the tent for VIPs, right? (No.)

I get waved in by someone who turns out to be the wife of someone in our group. She has the same idea that this seems like a place that might have answers – or at least has a little bit of space, if nothing else.

Also, she probably wasn’t actually even waving me in, come to think of it, because her husband came in closely behind me. And we had a third American coming in at the same time as well.

So, we’re asking around and no one speaks English… until! Someone does. We explain the situation and he says he’s gonna figure it out for us. He calls in on his walkie. No one answers, so he goes on foot to check things out.

We finally take a tiny breather after all this running around with our luggage and we take turns in the port o’ potties. (Might as well use the bathroom while we (barely) have the time…

But English-speaking-dude never comes back!

The race is starting any minute, and we’re getting in a little bit of trouble for being in the VIP area without wristbands. So one of our runners runs over to yet another tent by the start line, while I send out a desperate email and Facebook message to the group asking if anyone knows where we go.

And my new runner friend gets an answer at the start line. We have to haul butt to a tent in center-field where they have our bibs. I get there before him and am told we have to sign a waiver at the table. I’m shown exactly where to sign. (I know it’s generally the same place, but we’re not thinking an in a hurry (and for all I know it’s in Spanish. I was paying no attention. They could’ve gotten me to sign my life away).) Anyway, I get a pen ready of him. As soon as he gets there, I point exactly where he has to sign. We sign and run.

I am carrying my bib and safety pins with me – didn’t even put it on, because we had no time. The race had already started!

Then, when I reach the start, there are barriers surrounding it – and not the barriers like at the US Rock ‘n’ Roll races where we can actually get through, but like these full barriers you can’t climb under. So, then I’m pushing through the crowd – saying excuse me, but I’m not 100% sure everyone can understand me because I’m just some dumb American being pushy. Then I leap up on top of the barrier and flip over. (I do not have an easy time with these at Spartan events. But dang. I go over this one like this is my job. I guess anything’s possible when adrenaline is flowing.)

Then I start jogging.

Now, I just have to outrun the shuttle. (Dum dum duuuuuuum [*scary chords*].) And this is where I’ll pick up next time.

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