Stumbling through Yazoo's Barely a 4K Beer Run, with sweet inebriation at the finish line

Where: M.L. Rose Craft Beer & Burgers, West Nashville

When: Sat., Dec. 15 at 8:49 a.m.

It's just before 9 a.m. on a dreary yet unseasonably warm Saturday morning, and while most of my friends are still sleeping off the effects of Friday night, I'm in the bathroom at M.L. Rose on Charlotte, peering at my backside in the mirror.

But this isn't your typical did-I-accidentally-tuck-my-skirt-into-my-tights kind of moment that occasionally happens in a public restroom. Today, I'm ensuring that my form-fitting running gear is not causing me to commit the No. 1 fashion crime against woman: VPL. Look it up, guys.

When I'm confident that my running tights aren't giving away Victoria's Secret, I grab my friend Penelope — the only person I could drag out for a 9 a.m. weekend run — put on my Santa hat, and head outside.

Roughly 250 runners, all wearing Santa hats emblazoned with the Yazoo logo, have gathered for the hometown brewery's Barely a 4K Beer Run, the latest in a series of wacky events dreamed up by Yazoo sales and marketing manager Neil McCormick. In the past year, Neil has organized similar events in which participants run through downtown Nashville in Yazoo capes or participate in a citywide scavenger hunt. Did you happen see a bunch of adults riding oversized Big Wheels on the riverfront a couple of months ago? That was Neil's work too. For today's run, registrants paid a small entry fee and brought toys to donate to The Last Minute Toy Store.

The beauty of the "Barely a 4K" concept is that it's roughly two miles, so it's a simple run designed for beer drinkers. "Everyone does 5Ks or 10Ks, but a Barely a 4K is just to encourage people who maybe normally aren't runners to come out," explains Neil. "We never time, and we don't award winners. At the end, we're all just standing around having a beer."

If you don't want to run, you can walk. If you don't want to walk, you could probably hide in the bar's bathroom for 20 minutes and wait for everyone to get back. The races are often full of bizarre surprises, like the Barely a 4K this summer, when a dude in a giant panda suit cheered runners on at the halfway point.

That panda suit still resides at the Yazoo headquarters in the Gulch; I've seen it. Linus Hall, founder of Yazoo, is reportedly scared of it, and insists upon making the panda face the wall so it's not looking at him.

As we start to run, Penelope almost immediately faceplants. She seems OK, so I laugh at her, because it's funny when people almost fall.

I notice that Linus is running near us.

"Hey Linus!" I yell. "Is the panda going to be cheering us on today?"

"I don't like that panda," he responds, smiling. "It freaks me out!"

Penelope and I are quickly realizing how sneakily hilly Sylvan Park is. We slow down.

"When did it get so hot?" Penelope asks. I'm boiling too, although it may have something to do with the gold down vest and the long-sleeved metallic shirt I donned for the occasion, in an attempt to look like a Christmas ornament. With today's 500 percent humidity, I feel like I'm running in a snowsuit.

We pass Star Bagel Café. I momentarily consider stripping down and dashing inside for the ridiculously delicious Avocado and Vine Ripe Tomato sandwich — seriously, you should stop whatever you're doing right now and go get one — but we keep going. It's barely a 4K, after all.

"Are we last?" I ask Penelope. I can't tell if the people running behind us are part of our group because they don't have Santa hats on.

Penelope looks over her shoulder. "No, there are still people behind us."

I turn and squint into the distance. These people have strollers. If they are part of our group, the fact that we are barely passing them is humiliating.

"Oh my God, we have to pick it up!" I exclaim, increasing my gait up the hill.

"You didn't say we had to win, you said we just had to run!" Penelope protests.

She has a point. I begrudgingly slow down, mumbling under my breath, "That's loser-speak."

"What?" Penelope asks.

"I said, 'Everybody wins, because at the end, we get beer!' " I yell, mimicking Neil's earlier sentiments.

"Yeah!" she responds.

After we crest the longest hill ever, we see the stoplight at 46th and Charlotte. M.L. Rose is just around the corner.

"We're almost there!" Penelope exclaims, picking up her pace.

I'm excited to finally start running, and I take off after her. This is how I almost get hit by a car that clearly has no intention of stopping for pedestrians, or runners in Santa hats. I jump back and give the driver the dirtiest look I can muster. Then I realize that she's at least 103 years old. I feel kind of bad.

We safely round the corner and end up back at M.L. Rose, where the bar is lined with several varietals of Yazoo. We take off as many layers as is legally allowed in public and immediately down a beer. Penelope and I ponder whether or not beer is a good thing, post-run.

"Well, you're getting carbohydrates, and I don't know if there's electrolytes in beer, but I will investigate," I say.

"Plus it's mostly water," Penelope points out. Excellent point. We drink a few more.

A girl walks by in those weird toe-shoe contraptions. "How on earth do people run in those things?" I ask. "I don't care how comfortable they are — they're heinous."

"They're supposed to be good for your feet," Penelope says.

"Why? What are they even made out of?" I challenge. "Nylon? Parachute material? The stuff you make rocketships out of?"

Penelope looks at me blankly. "What stuff?" she asks. I don't have an answer. What are rocketships made out of? Are we drunk already? Probably. We just ran, we're drinking on empty stomachs, and it's not even 10 a.m.

We head outside for the infamous raffle giveaway, in which Neil hands out everything from awesome Yazoo swag to random junk that people bring him or leave at the taproom. This year, he's passed out Barbie kites, the old Yazoo breakroom toaster oven, and broken Viking hats.

"When you're not running, it's actually quite pleasant out," Penelope muses, finishing her beer as we relax on the patio.

It is. The sun is peeking through the clouds, and a light breeze has cooled us off. A truck filled with toys is going to brighten a lot of Christmases. A bunch of slightly drunk strangers are hanging out together on a patio. Neil just gave away a wicker basket filled with sweet potatoes. And if we hurry, we can get in one more round of our favorite local beer before 11 a.m. Happy holidays, Nashville!

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