Let’s go down the reasons against the run:
- You’re likely going to be either hungover or drunk, neither of which bodes well for a run.
- It’s almost certainly going to be hot as fuck due to the fact that Vegas is located on the surface of the Sun.
- The strip is not exactly the most picturesque of places to run (even if the people watching is world class).
- Rather than getting to your zen state and zoning out, you’ll spend most of your time dodging street performers and fat tourists holding daiquiris in cups shaped like the Eiffel Tower.
- Despite the fact that they’ve been awake for 47 hours humping a Duck-Dynasty-themed slot machine, everyone will look at you like you’re the one that belongs in a mental institute.
Now, while these things are all true, they are only applicable if you make the mistake of running like a basic bitch. If you really want to enjoy a run in Vegas, you have to run like the champion you know you can be. You have to run goodr.
How do you run goodr in Vegas? You run The Vegas goodr Strip $10K.
The Vegas goodr Strip $10K is pretty simple: you run a loop up and down the strip, stopping at no less than 4 casinos where you will chug a glass of champagne (or mimosa if you’re in brunch mode) as quickly as possible.
We (hetero-lifemates and goodr co-founders Stephen and Ben) decided to run the first ever Vegas goodr Strip $10K on the morning of our second day of a friend’s bachelor party. We attempted to do this last year when we were in Vegas for EDC (by “attempted,” I mean we brought some run gear with us to Vegas and verbally scheduled the run twice…but never actually put the run gear on.) This time, however, it was going to happen come hell or brutal hangover.
We began at Caesar’s Palace where we stepped outside of the cool air of the casino into the blast furnace of the desert and headed due south to our first stop at the Chandelier Bar in the Cosmo. Once inside, we bellied-up to the bar and ordered our first glass of mimosa (we needed the vitamin C). After a toast and a brief period of silence where we each contemplated our life choices, the mimosas were tossed back and we headed back out to the strip for our next stop: the MGM Grand.
At this point, the heat started getting to us as we began the longest stretch of the run sans air conditioning. Luckily the champagne quickly worked its bubbly magic on our empty stomachs and the buzz worked to cloud out any regrets we had for this particular poor choice.
When we made it to the MGM, we quickly found a bar and ordered two of their worst (not their cheapest, but their worst) mimosas. The agreeable fellow behind the bar doffed his cap (or would have if he had a cap on) and poured out two glasses of what we assume was day-old chardonnay with CO2 injected into it by an asthmatic. He then added two splashes of Sunny-D and handed the concoctions over with a smile. We again toasted and imbibed and were quickly off to our next destination.
From the MGM, we had several options for a next stop, but the only real choice was to make our way to the classiest joint on the stip: O’Sheas, the fine establishment where every day is St. Patrick’s Day and the light beer flows like wine.
Unlike the other “fancy” bars along the rest of the strip, O’Sheas is all about being practical. They know why you’re here. You’re here to get drunk. All the fancy frills are unnecessary trappings that will only delay you from your trip to the land of inebriation. So when we ordered a mimosa at O’Sheas we should not have been surprised to receive a very full 16oz keg cup filled almost entirely with J. Roget “champagne” and a drop of orange food coloring for effect.
If we weren’t drunk before this stop, 16oz of sparkling grape flavored liquor pushed us over the edge. Walking back out onto the strip our heads were properly swimming in the bubbles, but any semblance of a hangover or headache had disappeared. We had not just had a little hair of the dog that bit us, we pretty much straight adopted that dog and were training it to never bite us again (a fool’s errand but whatever, it’s something to do).
Even though we love the delightfully blue-collar vibe of O’Sheas, our next stop was at the opposite end of the wealth spectrum as we headed towards the Wynn. This was Vegas after all and we had to make sure our last stop was appropriately opulent to cap off the inaugural Vegas goodr Strip $10K.
By this point, not only were we properly drunk, but we were also sweating out the previous night’s debaucheries. Needless to say, we were quite the spectacle walking up to the bar in the Wynn. But the general craziness that Vegas breeds ensured that our strange look/demeanor/life choices were but a raindrop of weirdness lost in a surreal ocean of freaks and madness. With only the slightest hint of curiosity, the bartender poured our last glass of champagne and slid them across the bar. We again toasted, but by this point, we had stopped questioning the why of it all and simply enjoyed the bubbles.
The last mile or so back to Caesar’s was a pleasant blur and many laughs were had as we realized that we had discovered that you can have a pleasant run in Vegas, you just need to run goodr.