Last week, when Be Well Philly broke the news that the Blue Cross Broad Street Run would be switching to a lottery system for its 2013 registration, no one had anything nice to say.
Runners who’d been lining up at the North Philly start line for 20 years worried they’d be shut out. Some thought that this might be a good time to weed out the race-walkers with a qualifying time. Others were offended that a guaranteed spot would be offered to people who committed to raise $500 through a charity team, which, they said, amounted to shaking down friends and family for a bib number.
Interestingly, some were annoyed that next year’s Broad Street Run would offer so many spots—40,000 in 2013, roughly the same number of runners as the 2012 Broad Street Run. In fact, the jam-packed nature of last year’s race was the chief complaint about it afterwards: that there were too many runners tripping over each other, and that organizers should have capped it at 30,000 as planned. (For some perspective, the New York City Marathon fetches about 40,000 runners. So take the New York marathon, stuff it into our SEPTA system, and hurl it down our Main Street—this is the Broad Street Run as we now know it.)
No doubt about it: Broad Street touches a chord for many Philly runners. Until the past few years, when registration soared, the run itself—the actual one-foot-in-front-of-the-other down Broad Street—was almost irrelevant to everyone except the few thousand runners who actually did it. What mattered for everybody else—the spectators, the mayor—was that Philly turned into a hive of excitement on the first Sunday in May. It was one of the few days a year (save the equally beloved Mummers Parade) where we could open up our main artery and watch it pulsate. You wanted to schlep to Somerville Avenue at 8 a.m. in a Dunkin Donuts coffee-cup costume? That was your business. We’d drink to you anyway.
But the corporate-sponsored race of today looks very little like the small-time run that launched more than 30 years ago; as Broad Street’s popularity has grown, the question of what it should resemble more—a race or a parade—has gotten more complex. Runners who wake up early to do mile repeats have grown weary of elbowing their way past people in tutus to make it to the start line. Another contingency thinks these runners are a bunch of cranks, and that Broad Street is more a spirit-run than a competition.
But something truly snapped last year. It was my first (and now, probably, only) time running Broad Street. Sometime during the Internet-crashing registration cluster, or the squeeze into a claustrophobic subway car, or the 40-minute Port-A-Potty line, or the color-confused corral line-up, or the guy running past me dressed as some kind of woodland creature, it hit me: this race had gone off the rails. Broad Street had hit—exceeded, even—its point of critical mass.
That something must be done to rein in the registration process isn’t even a question. Race director Jim Marino pointed out to Be Well Philly that for people who couldn’t get to a computer during the first hour registration opened for 2012 (read: teachers, doctors, police officers, basically anyone not tethered to the Internet all day), there was no hope for entry. A lottery at least offers everyone a chance to register. And as a hat-tip to the legacy Broad Street has in Philly, race officials also say they’ll be offering some “race veterans”—no word yet on what that means—a chance to register early, before the unwashed masses.
On the one hand, Broad Street is one of Philly’s rare opportunities to show itself off. Because it’s in Philly’s DNA to be hopelessly attached to our traditions, sometimes to the point of insularity, no one likes the thought of excluding spirited Philadelphians from the race. And I get that.
But it also seems like this is a good occasion to come to terms with the fact that a successful race is a huge opportunity for cities; besides drawing out-of-towners and their tourism dollars, it’s a chance for a city to distinguish itself. The Philly Marathon may never have the clout that New York, Chicago, or Boston do, but Broad Street may have what it takes to become one of Philly’s elite races: a fast, downhill course, and a late spring date that makes for the perfect training season. Rather than a lottery, a qualifying time for Broad Street, one that simply guarantees entry rather than excluding anyone, may create the kind of race that Philly could really be proud of.
After all, the ragtag Philadelphia of the late 70s has grown up a lot in the last few decades. Maybe it’s time to let our hometown race do the same.
>> Tell us: What do you think is the best way to fix the Broad Street Run’s registration system, or any of the other issues the race faced last year? Share in the comments.
Broad Street just needs to start acting like the big race that it truly is. A lottery is just part of that, along with a more organized starting and finishing line, longer spaced wave groups, an earlier start time and some shuttle bus transportation to the start line. It wouldn’t hurt to have packet pickup at a larger venue either. They aren’t the first race to deal with these problems and there are models of other great races out there to learn from.
In your original article you said ‘veterans’ were going to be defined through a database of all the names of participants over the years – what about those of us who go married at some point between our first and most recent BSR? I’ve done 5 BSR’s; 3 under my maiden name and 2 under my now married name. How will they account for us? I can’t be the only one out there with this dilemma!
Good question, S. I’m checking with race director Jim Marino and will get back to you!
I am one of those with a streak (15 years) and also one who cannot do the registration w/o help (my wife patiently worked the internet that day). So I am interested in a better sign up. I think we need to accept the fact that not everyone who wants to will get to run. Isn’t it great that the event has become so successful. Given the numbers I thought the event last yr did well. Expo better than I expected (but I think the Linc doesn’t quite work). The corrals seemed well space and I ran w/o impediment and got thru the finish area w/o delay. The marine parade ground was very crowded but surprising getting my baggage from the bus very easy. I think they can handle 40K but absolutely no more. I don’t think anyone should be walking the entire distance so the idea of qualifying times is intriguing but part of the attraction of the race is its inclusiveness. How would qualifying times work? There are few 10 mile distances. Would you use 5K times (10 miles is a much different race), 10K times (also relatively rare distance) or half marathon times (closer to the nature of the 10Miler. Back when we thought 10K runners was a huge race who would have thought Jim Marino would have to deal with these issues. Good luck to the organizers – I’m glad that I don’t have to grapple with it.
As a six-time Broad Street runner, I am well aware that the registration style sucks for those who can’t get to a computer during the small registration window. I think instead of qualifying times, we should put the course limit at 2 hours instead of 3. That ensures people are running, but is still inclusive enough to keep it from being an elite race. I’m glad that they are giving veteran runners preference, but I doubt my 6 years could hold a candle to the streakers who have done it 20 or more times. How will they determine a vet? I wish they would have made this announcement with more answers rather than just throwing it out there that it’s a lottery and leaving us to speculate how this process will work.
I’m in favor of the lottery, for the reasons Jim Marino mentioned. Lotteries, quite simply, are the way of the future for races that are hugely popular. Limiting registration only to those people who have a time window dictated by someone else to sit at a computer is patently unfair.
I have mixed feelings about the imposition of qualifying times, and I’m strongly against assigning “veteran” preference to anyone who has not done this race consistently for at least 20 years (and I have done this race 9 times). My first distance event was the BSR. I was new and I was slow (yes, under two hours, but barely). Most of my friends kicked off their endurance running habit with BSR. The introductory/inclusiveness of this race is one of the things that makes it special. That said, perhaps they could limit the time to an average 13-minute-mile pace. This would still enable the people who run at a slow pace to participate and should eliminate the people who consider it a walking event. I would rather have the race be more inclusive, even if it means I can’t get in.
On your point on fixing the race, a few things need to happen. The first is there must be corral enforcement. People have a habit of just plugging themselves in anywhere, making the earlier waves far more congested than they need to be. It is intensely frustrating to be correctly corraled and shooting for an 8-9 minute pace only to have to weave around people walking in groups in the first two miles. Second, they need to look into how the other major races, e.g., Chicago and New York are handling the wave starts. Chicago this year had two different starts, each with its own waves. That, along with their excellent corral enforcement, led to minimal congestion on streets that are no wider than Broad Street. Staggered start times would also help with the transportation cluster to the start and congestion at the finish.
I disagree with the premise that a qualifying time does not exclude people. I have been running Broad Street for more than a decade and the idea that I may lose out on the lottery bums me out. I am not slow. So, maybe I would qualify. But, as long as I can remember, Broad Street was not about telling people they were too fat or too slow. Qualifying times would change the community vibe. That vibe is not something that can be created on demand. It is something that arose organically and I hope the race remains something that anyone can aspire to.
I also disagree with the premise that the BSR is not one of Philly’s elite races. The running season in Philly starts the day Broad Street registration opens up. I love Broad Street and will keep running it as long as I can. Jim created a race that everyone wants to run. That may create growing pains as they find the right balance. But, it does not mean we should turn it into a race that excludes the very people who made it grow.
I think that having to qualify for the BSR based on time would make the race elitist. BSR is a lot of people’s first long distance run. It should be welcoming for people of all ages, abilities etc. The goal should be for people to get moving and finish the race. I think that the lottery is the easiest and fairest way to do it!