The Sights and (Awful) Sounds of the Rock 'N' Roll Marathon
I've had a bone to pick with the Rock 'N' Roll Marathon, and not because it blocks off streets in my neighborhood or benefits Susan G. Komen. It's because, unlike other marathons that happen throughout the year, there are awful cover bands playing at full volume on a fucking Sunday morning in my neighborhood. 
On Saturday, when I received a flier in my mailbox about Sunday's race, I prepared for the worst, based on the past two years. As a musician, I know I should reap what I sow, but there's a reason why I pound the shit out of my drums at a rehearsal space in a warehouse district and play paradiddles on a practice pad at home. Lucky me, I live within earshot of a stage on the course. Previously, I had the displeasure of waking up to the sounds of a funk band covering Britney Spears and Weezer songs. My whole house rattled, especially the floor boards, all morning long. Earplugs were quite handy.
So, somebody in the neighborhood had to have complained over these past two years, right? Maybe not enough to get the stage's location moved, or table the marathon altogether.
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