I had such high hopes, too.
This past winter, I made plans to run Chicago. I heard wonderful things about the route (it’s flat). My husband is from Illinois (convenient). We planned on spending some time in the windy city, visiting with friends, taking in the sights, etc. etc. BLAH BLAH BLAH. I’m sure you get the picture. I religiously checked the Bank of America Chicago Marathon’s website, just in case there was a date change regarding when registration would ensue. No changes. This went on for a few months. I was like an addict.
You’d think I’d see red flags with this particular race. There was no “early bird” registration scenario. The date to register (Feb 19th) had a time indicated right next to it, high noon. This meant that every marathon hopeful would be sitting in front of their computer screens, hands hovered over keyboards, ready to pounce as soon as the clock went from 11:59am to 12:00pm. It truly felt as though there was a race just to enter the damn race, but if that was the game to play, I would play it! I put my toddler down for his nap a few minutes early that Tuesday morning, in anticipation of what was to come. I wasn’t playing around. This was serious.
I watched the clock. 11:58….11:59….. (seriously? hurry it up already!)…. NOON. BAM! The website was saved as a book mark on my computer. Suckas! I click on my task bar, and there was the page, complete with a picture of some lady runner smiling gleefully and blissfully into the distance. I check out the stats on registering, but it wasn’t open yet! It had hit noon, and there was no link to click on, no opportunity to start the registration process. I hate tardiness. Grimacing, I left the page and went about my usual routine while my little boy naps, you know… Facebook. E-mail. Facebook again. Checking back to see if I can register, only there is no update. Only the same old announcement that had been there for months: “Registration begins at 12:00pm CST (which I am CST) on February 19th, 2013.” I re-checked the date. Yes, it was the 19th. Of February. I am sure I went to the bathroom. Grabbed something to eat, not necessarily in that order. Check back again, and FINALLY! A link for me to register.
“It’s on!” I announced to no one in particular, other than my dog. He just looked at me as though I was insane. I clicked on the REGISTER HERE link, and….. nothing. A page popped up, letting me know that in no way, shape or form would I ever see the light of the registration page. Apparently, there were others who also charged dramatically into the website, registering. Lots of others. As in, thousands of others! I tried repeatedly. There were times I’d actually get to the registration page, relief filling me. I’d type all the information in, and selecting NEXT would only lead me to another idiotic page that told me access was denied! So, I’d start the process all over again. The marathon’s website used Active.com to get the registrations processed. I thought I could be sneaky, and cut the middle man out, going directly to Active.com’s website.
Well, you see where that got me. (Check the title of this blog post). I could not for the life of me get in. At the end of the day, with 45,000 spots open- only 15,000 spots were left. There were so many people registering for this race, it completely jammed up Active.com’s website. It just couldn’t handle the volume. Chicago came up with a wonderful, FABULOUS idea (complete and total sarcasm). In order to remedy the last remaining 15,000 spots with the thousands of people vying for said spots, a lottery would be instigated. My name went into an electronic hat along with many other names, and some mechanical claw pulled names out and my name was NOT drawn. Ok, there really isn’t a mechanical claw. I’m sure a reputable system was used to pick the names, only my name wasn’t one that was picked. I found out just this morning.
I’m pretty bummed out. I really wanted to run this race, and had banked on that for months. Just like that, my plans have been altered and screwed up. However, like any running addict- I’ve already got another plan up my sleeve.
Kansas City. October. $100 cheaper. And no lottery.