2nd ugliest building in Kansas City

This was the view from my “steer and cheer” station during the Hospital Hill Half Marathon on Saturday. As you can see, a wicked storm has passed through during the night. I had to slalom through the streets on my drive here, dodging downed branches and unmoored trash bins far from their homes. When I got to my station, lightning was crackling through the sky and the clouds were growing darker. Emergency sirens were wailing throughout the neighborhood, and the race organizers were sending texts to “seek shelter” and “wait for instructions.” (I had thought about wearing short pants because of the forecasted heat, but decided not to. While waiting for whatever to transpire, I pulled on a hoodie to keep warm.) In all, a dismal portent for the race, but runners are dogged people, and running in the rain is actually kind of nice (if it is warm enuf). Eventually, I learned that the start was delayed by a half hour to let the weather pass, which it did.

I was at about mile 6.5, the halfway point. Despite the late start, it would be a half hour before even the fastest runner passed me. When he did, he made it look effortless. He was focused and didn’t acknowledge me as he kept his pace going up the hill I was on. Some people are just born with a different set of heart and lungs than the rest of us. This man was obviously born to run (though he supplemented his good genetics with lots of training and commitment I’m sure). Five or ten minutes passed before the next runners came along, and for the first half hour of my shift, the swiftest runners were spread out. The pack of runners that comprised the bulk didn’t arrive until after this.

Which gave me a lot of time for reflection and observation.

The building you see in the photo above has been called “the second ugliest building in Kansas City.” And what you see is an improvement over how it looked in the past. It happens that when I was in graduate school, I would pass this building on my way to class. I got to see it, warts and all, in the earlier days and wondered how such an eyesore could have come to pass. It was only decades later when a runner friend told me he had worked in this building for a time and that they had joked that it was the second ugliest in the city. The joke, of course, is that it was so bad it couldn’t even be called the worst. It failed at being a failure. And then there is the inevitable question, which I don’t have an answer for.

As I watched the runners (and walkers) passed, including a man in a kilt and a woman in a knee-length skirt and all manner of fitness levels (some were panting hard as they pushed up the hill, others were having casual conversations), there was another little vignette playing out before me.

On the brick wall behind that fallen tree, a juvenile starling would perch and flutter its wings. The fluttering business is how juveniles trigger the feeding response in their parents. The starling would sit on the wall and flutter for a while, then fly off, only to return a few minutes later. I’m sure it was saying “Feed me, Mom!” And the fallen tree before it suggested that the juvenile wasn’t going to get a meal, that the juvenile was probably an orphan. My guess is that its nest had been in that tree, and when the storm knocked it over, the parents were killed, with only the nestling surviving. This would explain why it was staying in that immediate area. It was hard to watch this; I’m a softy.

But runners and walkers kept flowing past me, thanking me for volunteering, and the occasional car came up behind me, hoping to somehow get to the other side of the street, beyond the flow of runners. My job was to make sure they didn’t hit anyone or even arrest the flow of the runners, so I watched for gaps and then waved the drivers through.

Oddly (sadly?), the very last person on the course, attended by two pacers who were at her side, gave up directly in front of me. She said she couldn’t go any farther — she’d gotten half way, and she was struggling up just one of the many hills still before her, but it looked clear to me that she was in distress — and so she fell back to the sag wagon and was driven to the finish.

And so I had an eventful race, standing in one place for a few hours and watching the human (and non-human) drama transpire before me. Plus I got a shirt out of it.

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One Comment on “2nd ugliest building in Kansas City”

  1. markparis Says:

    This looks like a hotel that I would pass by hoping for something better to come up.


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