The Photo Finish (Bulldog Jog Edition)
Some pics and memories from last year's Bulldog Jog 5K, 10K, and 1-mile Dawg Walk to get you stoked for tomorrow morning.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. This is great news, because I’ve only got about 992 left in me.
The 2025 Bulldog Jog is tomorrow—Saturday, April 12—so don’t panic. You haven’t missed anything. I’m just here today, on this fine spring Friday, to get you psyched with a little photorealistic time-travel: highlights from the 2024 race, courtesy of our resident race director and Weather Whisperer, Brian Schuetter. These pics won’t predict your race pace, but they might remind you why we show up at all.
After Wednesday’s highly serious and deeply researched dispatch on the history, terrain, and weather apparatus behind the Butler Bulldog Jog, I received a very special email from our aforementioned race director and meteorological warlock. Subject line: “Photos from last year!” Attached: a virtual shoebox of snapshots from the 2024 race. Runners mid-stride. Mascots mid-derp. Volunteers mid-cheer. You can almost smell the thawing earth and slightly singed bagels.
Reader, I opened the file and was instantly overwhelmed with nostalgia, endorphins, and the strong urge to purchase a second pair of compression socks from Runners Forum in Broad Ripple.
I was also reminded of something important. Races are not just times and bibs and swag bags. They are faces. Bodies. Fanny packs. The weird guy in jorts who runs the 10K in five-fingered Vibrams. The toddler with a cowbell twice the size of her head. The retiree speed-walking like her life depends on it (and hey—maybe it does). More than mere photorealistic documentation of an event, these artifacts show how ordinary humans willingly gather on a random Saturday to try. To move. To be seen. To cheer and sweat and gawk at the person in the inflatable dinosaur costume. (Who is that, anyway?)
So today, I give you: the photo retrospective nobody asked for and yet absolutely deserves.
Let’s take a little scroll down memory lane, shall we?
And then there’s that photo: a near-perfect frame of the starting line, just as the pep band is launching into “The Butler War Song.” Everyone’s got that slightly confused expression that says: “Wait, is the race starting? Are we just warming up? Is that mascot waving at me or having a heatstroke?”
Honestly, these images make me weirdly emotional. Not because the shots are particularly artistic (no offense, Brian—though your panorama of the porta-potties deserves its own gallery show), but because they reveal something we too often forget: community is rarely glamorous. It’s not big speeches or movie montages. It’s wool hats, squeaky shoes, and shuffling toward the start line alongside people you maybe saw last year, maybe not, but who all showed up again anyway.
And we need that—especially in spring.
Especially now, in a world where a great many things ask us to disengage. To scroll. To isolate. A 5K says the opposite: Come outside. Be awkward. Run too fast the first mile. Regret it immediately. Laugh at yourself. High-five a stranger. Watch your breath fog the morning air and think, against all odds, this feels right.
You know what else feels right? This forecast.
The Weather Machine is purring.
After last year’s wind gusts that knocked over the water table (twice), it appears our mysterious, possibly haunted, definitely undocumented Weather Machine is locked in and humming along. Predictions for Saturday, April 12, 2025? Mid-50s. Sunny. Light breeze. Perfect for PRs, petting bulldogs, and sweating through your race shirt just enough to wonder if it’s socially acceptable to take it off mid-run. (Answer: it depends. And no, compression sleeves do not count as a shirt.)
So consider this your official nudge: show up tomorrow.
Maybe you’re racing the 5K for time. Maybe you’re jogging the 10K for fun. Maybe you’re pushing a stroller and hoping your kid doesn’t throw their fruit pouch at a goose (speaking from experience). Or maybe you’re just showing up to cheer, sip coffee, and shout wildly inaccurate course advice to passing runners (“Only half a mile left!”—at mile two).
Whatever your angle, you belong. This race isn’t just for athletes or purists or those weirdos who “don’t even need a watch.” It’s for anyone willing to move through the world with a little joy, a little effort, and maybe a weird hat. It’s for you.
Final thoughts before we lace up.
I have it on good authority that at least one participant will be dressed as a banana.
The banana is fast. Do not try to pass the banana.
Pick up your packet today (Friday), if at all possible.
The Weather Machine may or may not accept thank-you offerings in the form of lukewarm gas station burritos. (Let’s play it safe and bring one, just in case.)
If you’re running, I’ll see you out there. If you’re spectating, I’ll wave with my sad little hand while trying to fake not being out of breath.
And if you see someone taking a blurry photo mid-race—don’t worry. That’s probably Brian. Or me. Or maybe Butler Blue IV, who has recently learned how to work an iPhone.
Look for a race recap on Monday. More photos below.
Go Dawgs.
Paul
The Highlight Zone is a reader-supported publication. If this post brought you joy—or at least made you laugh through your pre-race nerves—consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. And if you happen to be in one of these photos, please accept my thanks, admiration, and a metaphorical high-five. You made the race what it was. Let’s do it again tomorrow.
