Few places rival New York in its reputation for quirkiness. And few New York events are quirkier than the Idiotarod – a competition during which costumed participants race with decorated shopping carts through the frozen city.
The event bills itself as an “urban spoof” of the Iditarod, a multi-day sled dog race across Alaska. But while racers in Alaska tackle a vast expanse of tundra, those taking part in the parody version go from bar to bar in the Big Apple.
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"Running with the participants, carrying cameras, constantly slipping on ice. It was very far from the walk in the park I’d imagined."
When an editor reaches out to you with: “Want an assignment that involves biking, drinking, Vikings and shopping carts?” there’s only one answer. And with that, I was Reuters’ assigned photographer for Idiotarod 2014.
The Idiotarod’s website describes it as: “an urban spoof of the Alaskan dog sled race”, namely, the Iditarod, which takes place around the same time.
The Alaskan race involves a gruelling multi-day trek by dog sled across the Tundra, compared to the New York version, which consists of drunk hipsters pushing decorated shopping carts from bar to bar over a 5 mile route.
To add curiosity to the day, (as if it needed more) the Alaskan organisers had their lawyers send a cease-and-desist letter to those in New York, feeling that the similar name created confusion.
I rode over to Brooklyn to meet the Idiotarod racers at the starting point on another bitterly cold day in the city. Teams gathered, identified by themed uniforms. One team paid homage to Super Mario Brothers, another to former wrestler “Macho Man” Randy Savage.
Regardless of how little they wore, it seemed only I could feel the cold. The party had already started. The centerpieces were the racing shopping carts, which matched the themes of their teams and were paraded with pride, and photographed by spectators and rivals alike. Spirits were definitely high.
An unofficial-official (no-one will admit to organizing the event) called teams in to announce the first checkpoint and it was on. A stream of racers ran into the streets, darting between traffic and confusing shoppers.
When checkpoint one had been reached and beers downed, the race headed toward further checkpoints. Snow began to fall and the already low temperature seemed to plummet.
As easy as it looked, it was obviously becoming something of a challenge to participate. Feet were dragging, teams were further spread out and checkpoints were becoming longer affairs. Personally, I was exhausted. Running with the participants, carrying cameras, constantly slipping on ice. It was very far from the walk in the park I’d imagined.
But it did provide a spectacle. The snow had driven residents in-doors, emptying the streets. Running with masked racers through a now empty Brooklyn, it felt as if the lunatics had taken over the asylum. It was just me and the lunatics.
Night fell as racers trudged the last leg into Manhattan. My fingers were frozen and my camera was now covered in snow. All invited me to join the post-race celebration in a bar but I was done. Soup. Shower. Bed. See you in 2015, Idiotarod.