RICHMOND, Va. (AP) - Thom Suddeth, a former law enforcement officer, knows illicit behavior when he sees it. And he sees it each spring when dozens of unregistered runners attempt to participate on the sly in the Ukrop’s Monument Avenue 10K.
Suddeth, the coordinator of elite athletes for the 10K and the Anthem Richmond Marathon in November, said running without registration is, in essence, thievery.
“In my opinion, it’s stealing. It’s that simple,” Suddeth said. “It’s like watching a movie after sneaking into the theater through the back door.”
The road racing community attaches the label “bandits” to such individuals.
“It’s a very, very frustrating problem, especially if you understand the time and effort and expense required to put on an event like (the Monument Avenue 10K),” Suddeth said. “You’re just going to show up at the start and consume resources and use roads that other people have paid for? If that’s not stealing, I don’t know what is. I do know this: It leaves a very bad taste in my mouth.”
More than 36,300 runners, joggers and walkers formally registered for the March 29 10K. More than 27,400 finished. Race director Lisa Randolph said participation by bandits was significantly smaller, but not insignificant.
Randolph said security officers at the starting corral look specifically for runners without official bibs. Two individuals stationed about one-fifth of a mile from the finish line perform the same task. Bicyclists and runners with dogs or baby strollers also are escorted off the course. Randolph estimated between 100 and 200 unregistered participants were picked off March 29 by security attendants.
She said it is inevitable some will “slip through the cracks” each year.
The problem posed by bandits, Randolph said, is one of safety more than honesty.
“It’s not just a person drinking water or Powerade they didn’t pay for,” she said. “It’s an unknown number of people cumulatively taking up space and resources. How are we supposed to identify them if something happens? How are we supposed to know their medical histories? Who do we contact in the event of an emergency?”
Each bandit, Randolph said, “puts an additional strain on our resources and pushes us that much closer to not being able to properly manage the event.”
In addition, each unregistered runner excuses himself or herself from an entry fee that begins at $30 on Dec. 1 and climbs to $55 on the eve of the race.
Jazmina Hernandez of Disputanta ran with an apparent bandit.
Hernandez said she encountered Rosa Ceballos for the first time in the starting corral March 29. Ceballos, friendly and engaging, commented on Hernandez’s choice of outfits as the two jogged toward the starting line. Hernandez, like Ceballos, wore dark leggings with a key lime-colored shirt.
Hernandez noticed Ceballos was not wearing a bib.
“She said she didn’t have one,” Hernandez said.
The two talked in spurts during the 6.2-mile run. Hernandez learned Ceballos is “a fanatic about running” and she is an out-of-towner who “heard about the race and just decided she needed to do it.”
Otherwise, Hernandez said, “I got no information at all.”
Multiple attempts to contact Ceballos were unsuccessful.
Hernandez said she enjoyed Ceballos’ company.
The two crossed the finish line in tandem, arms raised in celebration - one runner with an official number, one without.
The moment was captured by Times-Dispatch photographer P. Kevin Morley.
Each woman identified herself at the photographer’s request.
Ceballos escaped not only the attention of security attendants at the start, but also the scrutiny of Mark Guzzi and Sam Lowe near the Franklin Street finish. Randolph refers to Guzzi and Lowe as the event’s “bouncers.” Guzzi estimated he and Lowe halted as many as 60 bandits March 29.
“The people who paid to participate are the people who’ve earned the right to finish the race,” Guzzi said. “We just ask politely to see their number so we can verify that they’re registered runners.”
The explanations of runners who cannot produce a number, Guzzi said, are endlessly creative.
“Some guys get right up in your face: ’This is a public road. I have a right to be here.’ Sometimes it’s, ’Oh, well, my number fell off.’ Or, ’Oh, gee. I must have left my number in the car.’ Or, ’But I’m running for my grandfather … he has cancer.’”
The presence of a uniformed sheriff keeps these discussions brief and, for the most part, civil.
Said Guzzi: “We say, ’OK, then, why don’t you step right over there and tell your story to the officer’?”
Often, the suspected bandit then slips through the temporary restraining fence “and disappears into the crowd.”
Randolph finds the issue “ironic, in a way. There’s such a strong bond in the running community. Often people (participate as bandits) because they want to join in. … They want to share in that sense of community. But what they’re actually doing is further isolating themselves.”
The Sports Backers, the event’s primary organizers, were sued for $30 million when an unregistered competitor was partially paralyzed after sprawling head-first into a mud pit at the 2010 Filthy 5K Mud Run. The parties agreed last summer to a $300,000 settlement.
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Information from: Richmond Times-Dispatch, https://www.timesdispatch.com
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