Running News Daily

‘You Stole!’ Running World Divided Over ‘Bandits’ Who Crash Races

The Miami Marathon is contemplating facial-recognition tech to curtail interlopers; at a popular San Francisco race, bandits, who have included Gov. Gavin Newsom, are gods.

During the 2023 Miami Marathon, Frankie Ruiz, an event founder, spotted a bandit and pounced. He interrogated a runner wearing a comically bad counterfeit racing bib pinned to her shirt. She claimed she and pals had paid for entry to the race, and were told to print out their bibs at home.

“Who did you give the money to?” Ruiz asked

“My friend,” the woman answered vaguely. “That’s not a friend,” Ruiz replied. “You’re not registered.” Her run was done. She left the course, just 300 meters from the finish line.

As the public face of the marathon’s surveillance group, aka the “bandit busters,” Ruiz posts videos of his team catching bandits—runners who crash events without signing up. 

I n “bandit reel” videos, he’ll intercept interlopers or his crew will strip medals from bibless finishers. Excuses fly: “It fell off, bro, it fell off.” One man unzips his jacket, feigning surprise at the missing bib. Caught red-handed, many sheepishly surrender their medals without a word. 

As running booms, some races burst at the seams. Sold-out events and increasing fees, which can top $150, spur some bandits to sneak in, while others simply see no harm in crashing the course. 

Last month, influencer Alexa Curtis bandited a sold-out New York City race, like a party she wasn’t invited to.

“I just ran 13.1 miles for the Brooklyn half marathon at a 7.43 minute pace,” she humblebragged in a tearfully triumphant Instagram message, mentioning her “fearless” journey. “I didn’t sign up for this race. I just asked the security where it started and where it ended and jumped in.” She didn’t know what was about to hit her.

To critics, Curtis committed the cardinal bandit sin: crossing the finish line.

“You are a bandit and you stole from this race,” one commenter wrote. A defender retorted, “if there was a line that was marked as ‘finish line’ and she walked over it, that doesn’t cost anything to anyone.”

C urtis initially was confused. “I literally googled, ‘What is a bandit,’” she said in an interview.

In the running world, among peers and in online forums, the bandit debate rages like a nasty blister. Are bandits happy runners harmlessly enjoying public roads? Or narcissistic resource-hogs using up porta potties and guzzling ill-gotten Gatorade?

Race banditry has a rich history. Bobbi Gibb, the first woman to run the Boston Marathon, crashed it in 1966 when women couldn’t register. 

Tolerance varies. The Miami Marathon, a qualifier for Boston and other prestige races, takes a hard line. But San Francisco’s anarchic Bay to Breakers 12k? That’s a different story altogether.

If race banditry had an Olympics, it would be this race. California Gov. Gavin Newsom bandited Bay to Breakers in 2010. Organizers reported 21,000 registered participants this year, but anticipated as many as 10,000 additional crashers.

‘The salmon’

“Bandits are a part of Bay to Breakers,” said race director Kyle Meyers. “Do they all finish? No.”

The most notable bandits are “the salmon,” die-hard mostly-unregistered runners who show up yearly, dress as salmon, and run in the wrong direction. This past Sunday, a dozen plunged into a crowd of about 30,000 participants, heading not to the finish line but to the Chieftain, an Irish pub near the start.

The lead runner, who gave his name as Uncle Milty, wore four old race bibs. “One of those was official,” he said when asked. “The rest were ones we made up.” As he waited to jump into the race, just a block from San Francisco’s famous Painted Ladies Victorians, he spied a fifth bib on the ground, and nonchalantly pinned it on.

After consulting with Michelle Kaye Fitzgerald, a legitimately registered salmon, to ensure the serious runners had passed, Milty rallied his school into Hayes Street. They approached advancing racers, shouting: “Spawn! Spawn! You’re going the wrong way!”

While Meyers says bandits shouldn’t cross the finish line, race staff happily handed cups of water to salmon along the course, and other amenities treasured by runners were open to bandits. “We probably have the most portable restrooms of any 12k on the planet,” Meyers said, with a hint of pride.

The salmon are the brainchild of Rob Schmitt, who hatched the idea more than 30 years ago after discussing salmon-spawning habits with his girlfriend. He repurposed old carpet into salmon costumes, and then relayed his plans to friends at the Cacophony Society, an underground group known for pranks and chaotic events. 

To run with the salmon, as this reporter discovered Sunday, is to experience many things at once. Setting off downhill with some trepidation, you view thousands of participants, flowing toward you for block after block, like sparkly crawling ants, and feel an initial grim sense of awe at the thought of navigating through them. But that fades as passing racers greet you with glee. 

You high-five 125 sweaty hands in a single block, including crabs, cows, bananas, banana slugs, furbys, Cybertrucks and nudists. You stop and dance every time there is music, especially if there are bubbles. You scream in mock terror when a bear runs by.

Meanwhile, in Miami

Frankie Ruiz began wrangling bandits a decade ago when the Miami Marathon ran out of medals for nearly 1,500 finishers, despite having ordered enough. 

Ruiz is now known—and revered by some—for his bandit videos. He’s even nabbed bandits at Thanksgiving turkey trots. “I’ve had entire families showing up without paying.”

The Miami Marathon now uses holograms on bibs to prevent counterfeiting, and Ruiz is looking into facial-recognition technology.

What does he think of San Francisco’s salmon-suited bandits? “I’m glad you guys didn’t show up to my race,” he said. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

(05/26/2024) Views: 316 ⚡AMP