So you want to go to Miami....

It is 75-degrees today and sunny. One of those days that make you think you must be in Miami. And I am just getting over a head cold, so I don’t see any Palm Trees – real or hallucinated. But between feeling better and seeing the sun, it might be time to tell you all what went down when Annie and I flew to South Beach.
About a month ago, Annie calls to ask me if I want to go to Miami with her. Kip, her beloved and much discussed nephew, has entered the Miami Marathon. He and his lover, Matthew, will be staying at the race hotel. Do I want to go?
Not just yes, but hell yes. I have a ticket on American I can use. I really do love the half-marathon distance. There’s something about a race that gets me going. AND, Cyndie, my realtor, keeps going on and on about Miami Art Deco.
So I get online and book Annie and my tickets, choose to stay at the Days Inn because they are right on the beach, and then promptly forget to register for the race.
Ann gets us a rental car and we meet at the airport to being our journey.
Upon arrival we take the wrong turn and end up going South instead of East. Still, the neighborhoods are beautiful,and, I am guessing Ann agrees, it was well worth seeing.
We make our way onto Miami Beach and head along A1A toward our hotel. It is 11:30 p.m. on a Friday night and the whole world is out seeing and being seen. The traffic is so bad it takes an hour to get from the tip of the island to 21st street and our hotel.
Check in goes relatively well, except that Ann can’t find a handicapped parking place anywhere. We make it too our rooms and I am very tired. But I swear my bed is sagging. Not in the middle, but toward the foot of the bed and off to one side. It’s also absolutely freezing in our room. I turn off the A/C.
Because I have a rib out from coughing, I decide to take a hot shower and promptly realize that in this hotel it’s the cold water that doesn’t work. I scald myself.
By the time I get out of the bathroom my back muscles have eased and Ann has gotten us extra blankets. We finally fall asleep and don’t wake up until 8:30 a.m.
As soon as we’re conscious, Ann calls Kip and Matthew who tell us they are on the way. Dressed and made up, we meet up with the boys and head to “downtown” South beach – Lincoln Street Plaza.
We find a nice place to eat Breakfast and a hot cup of coffee. We discover that we have lunch plans very soon after this breakfast. And we notice that there is a parrot in the palm tree above us, dropping seeds on our heads.
After breakfast we decide to do a little shopping. Then we wander to the Miami Beach Convention Center to pick up our race packets – i.e., for me to actually enter the race. We wander through the lines, gawk at the goods and then hit the road – back to Lincoln Plaza where we meet a friend of Kip’s mother for lunch.
More shopping later, Annie has developed a blister on her foot and she, Kip and Matthew head back to the hotel while I decide to walk.
Once we’re situated at the hotel, i.e., stuff is dropped off, clothes are changed, we drive back down to the beach and find a café to rest in. We take the corner table at the O bar where we can see the main gay club and the beach access. The hostess has a cow when we sit at an uncleared table, but I can’t for the life of me figure what rules we could have been breaking. Seems we just confused her when we took things out of order.
For the rest of the afternoon we drink, watch men with few clothes leaving and entering the beach, wander out on the sand to take a closer look and then decide it’s time for dinner.
This we have at an Italian place on the same street (Ocean drive) and I actually get hit on by a tall, buff man who isn’t gay. Matthew orders this fantastic Mojito with a 2 foot piece of raw sugar cane in it and Ann orders cheap wine.
By now, we have realized that nothing is cheap in South Beach. The wine is expensive and tastes really bad. But the waiter is really annoyed with she suggests it might have gone bad, claiming he opened the bottle himself.
Kip and I order water!
We make dinner a short affair and head back to our hotels, where we get ready for the next morning.
“Don’t worry, Kip,” I say, “you can go to bed however late you want. The night before a race you don’t sleep anyway.”
This is Kip’s first marathon and the 6’7” International AIDS educator is raising money for an AIDS clinic in D.C. He’s had to travel all over Eastern Europe all year, so he’s been training in Kazakstan and Poland.
I have run exactly once a week at North Shore since my last 13.1 miles. In other words, I haven’t trained at all.
The room is still freezing so I turn on the heat. The hallways are so cold; the room can’t warm up – even with the sun and humidity outside. I am able to fall asleep fairly easily. The advice I gave Kip about not sleeping I have long since outgrown. I do these races now because I love to be a part of them. I love running. And when a bunch of people will do it with you and others will close the roads and give you water… well, that’s when I am in my element.
The alarm went off at 445 a.m. but Annie had already woken me up, hopping around our hotel room. She had apparently taken my advice to heart, except she wasn’t even running.
I got all my gear on, made my drop bag, had a cup of coffee and headed downstairs to get in the car.
It began raining on us as we crossed the Venetian Causeway.
At the American Airlines Center I had to jump from the car and walk to the start as the police were overzealously attempting to be overzealous.
It was still raining. I found my entrance to the ‘corral.’ It rained harder.
The chutes began to fill up. It rained harder.
The road we were on began flooding. It rained so hard we couldn’t hear the announcer.
The people in the arena began to flow out to join us. It kept on raining.
The wheelchair race started. Still, it rained.
The runners took off. And it rained.
I started moving forward and finally crossed the start line at 14 minutes into the race. And that’s when the rain stopped.
It was 6:24 a.m., not yet light, the first leg of the race was out over the MacArthur causeway to Miami Beach and the cruise ships provided the backdrop as 16,000 people streamed across the bridge.
Most of my race was uneventful. We made it to the island and the sun had come up. The streets were wet and residents were just beginning to come out for breakfast and coffee. One hotel had Cabaret dancers on the sidewalk for our entertainment. At the northern most point of the route, we had a drum and fife corps. And somewhere about mile 8 I was reduced to shuffling and walking because the wet socks in the wet shoes were wearing the balls of my feet raw.
I came across the Venetian and hit downtown Miami way behind my usual pace. Then, they had music at every corner which interfered with my Ipod, so the earbuds came out. Not that much later we were in a part of town that I can only describe as ugly. I’d say about 60 percent of Miami is under construction and the other 40 percent needs to be.
As I crossed the finish line, I tried to run. But I was not motivated.
I had to ask them to hand me my metal. Then, I got a banana and went to find Ann.
Except Ann wasn’t answering her phone.
It turns out that she was stuck in traffic (where they closed the roads for the runners), and so I found the AIDS tent and kept watching for Kip. Eventually, Matthew came and gave me his shirt to wear and his coat.
I also got to cuddle Tinky.
When Matthew finished Ann also appeared. And we had some fruit and water before heading out to find our cars, our hotels and lunch. It turns out Ann left my drop bag in the car, anyway.
We were walking through this mediocre part of town and we decided to stop at a hole-in-the-wall Brazilian place where we had rice, plantains, and barbeque. Phew. I was STARVING.
At trail races they feed you. Not so at this race. There was no post-race meal.
As soon as we hit home, I went to sleep. Ann tried to sleep too, and maybe dozed an hour or so. Then, she woke to a caffeine headache and had to make herself tea.
Later on, we got dressed and went to have cocktails and dinner with the boys at the Delano hotel (www.delano-hotel.com). The night was $460 for the four of us…. But it was absolutely worth it.
I have never been in a hotel more glamorous and yet accessible. The style was superb and the food outstanding. We sat on all white furniture (Matthew and I had the Chaiz Lounge) and huddled under white fur throws while drinking Mojitos. We walked in the orchard where guests played chess on a life-sized board and waiters served dinner at a two-person table sitting in the shallow end of the pool.
A cold front blew in and we were huddled by a heater eating dessert and coffee as we watched couples canoodling in the cabanas pool-side, the wind blowing long, white, gauzy curtains back and forth to obstruct the view.
A perfect ending to a great trip. And a lifetime of searching ahead to find another such hotel.
The next morning early, Ann and I returned to Miami International Airport, where I learned that handicapped passengers and their companions are allowed to go to the front of the security line. We boarded first as well. And we got to sit in business class seats right next to the galley.
There, I met Mary Diaz, a flight attendant who had also run the marathon. As we talked and she mentioned a 50 Miler was in her future, I expounded on the beauties of Palo Duro. Before the beverages were served she was hooked. And I have already sent her an application and exchanged emails.
The soreness is gone. I am running again this weekend.
But I hope to return to South Beach soon. It’s a great place to spend a weekend.