we do it again.
7.5 miles! Mostly at top speed.
Rob and I had decided that spending the night in the City the night before the Bay to Breakers was the way to go this year, rather than deal with getting up extra-early and taking CalTrain. Darin and Laura would come up after the race and we'd go get lunch somewhere.
Addendum 1: Gordon decided to run the Bay to Breakers with us. He had mentioned to Rob that he could meet us up in the City the day of the race. After Rob recovered from his apoplectic laughing fit, they decided that Gordon would spend the night in our room on a rollaway. So I was (wink, wink) spending the night in a hotel room with two guys, neither of whom I was married to.
Addendum 2: I hadn't seen my father yet this vacation. I made plans to see my parents after the race, so only Darin came up.
After dinner at Florentine's, Rob, Gordon, and I drove up to San Francisco and discovered how hard it is to maneuver one's car into the appropriate docking bay for the Jukebox Marriott, on Market Street. Not to mention how hard it is to swallow the docking fee: $27.50 for one night, but you get In and Out privileges. "Oh good," Rob said.
We dropped all of our stuff in the room and immediately turned around to go find some store that was open where we could buy water. The doorman checked his watch and directed us to the Walgreen's on Powell, the only drugstore still open at 11. I wondered if the Virgin Megastore sold water, and frankly, it wouldn't have surprised me in the slightest.
We bought about 14 times as much water as we were going to need and went back to the hotel room, where Gordon's bed had not as yet arrived. We drank water and talked. Finally the bed showed up and we got ready for bed. I had mentioned to Rob I didn't know what I was going to wear to bed, since I don't wear nightgowns (hey, Darin and I have been together 7 years), and Rob said, "Wear your running clothes. It'll save time." So I did. Well, except for the socks and sports bra.
There were no pillow fights.
We woke up at 6, even though we'd asked for a wake-up call at 6:30. We got out of the room around 7 and headed toward Howard and Spear. I had forgotten that Rob did not get the full Bay to Breakers experience last year, where we found a convenient side road and got in on the action early.
To get the full experience, you must push your way toward the Howard and Spear start line, along with several thousand of your closest friends. The crowd tosses tortillas and beach balls overhead. (Tortillas? I guess they're cheaper than frisbees, and tastier too.) What's funniest about this stage--very Who-concert-esque--is that there is always someone pushing past you, trying to get that much closer to the start. Good luck and Godspeed, we said.
Also close to where we were packed in was a banana peel, which I was quite sure was going to ruin someone's start to the race, and in such a cliched manner as well.
The race started, which is somewhat of a misnomer--we couldn't move faster than a basic trot for the first two miles (which took us 25 minutes to cover). We got into a rhythm after a while, only to be disrupted by the Hayes Street Hill.
Which we ran, non-stop, again this year, thankyouverymuch. Except for when we ran into the truck parked on the sidewalk, forcing us back into the street. The truck owner just stood there, staring at us, smoking, as though we were the trespassers. Hey, if you take an apartment on Hayes Street and you don't know what happens the third Sunday of every May, it's your own damn fault, okay?
(Rob was surprised at how hard it was to run on the sidewalks in general this year.)
As always, the view from the top of the Hayes Street Hill is an impressive sight. I herded us to the center of the road and told Gordon to turn around, which elicited a small "Wow" from him. I said, "This view makes the entire race worth doing."
"Couldn't we have just parked here?" he said.
The rest of the race went pretty quickly, and I mean that in both senses. We definitely speeded up, mostly because it's all downhill from the top of that hill, but we ended up going so fast all three of us could feel it in our calves. Gordon said we crossed the starting line at about 3 minutes in, and we finished at 1hr21min., so we speeded up a lot toward the end. I felt as though I was holding Rob and Gordon back, but they both assured me I wasn't, which is pretty much their job.
One of the strange things about this year's race I noticed were the lack of centipedes. Centipedes are the racing groups of 13 runners who must be tied together in some way and are usually costumed. For example: Stonehenge. Or, the Frat Boy Daiquiri Hut, in which the guy in the center made daiquiris and handed them to runners. I got run over by the Gay Pride Flag one year. This year, as we were waiting to start, the Gilligan's Island centipede pushed past, but that was about it for 'pedes.
I also didn't see that many costumes. We saw a few lack of costumes--including a naked woman, a first for me in the BtoB--but not as many as previous years.
An example of mid-race silliness:
As our intrepid heroes, dashing through Golden Gate Park, pass
a dog, which sits with its back to the crowd.
ROB
Did you see that? That dog was an
Australian Shepherd. It had its back
to the crowd. They're shy dogs.
DIANE
Shy? Why? We're kind of like sheep.
GORDON
Sheep-like
DIANE
Sheep-esque
ROB
Sheepful.
DIANE
I've passed many a sheepless night.
GORDON
Do you sleep on top of the sheeps or
beneath the sheeps?
ROB
Between the sheeps.
You have no idea how funny this kind of thing is at Mile 6.
We walked to Footstock--the end of race party at Kezar Stadium. (The night before, Rob had mentioned that we had to go to Cesar Chavez Park, and I yelled, "They changed the name of Golden Gate Park?" Turns out he was trying to remember the name of Kezar Stadium.) We picked up our shirts and immediately headed south, trying to get out of the park, so we could find our ride: my sister had said she would pick us up.
Do you know how hard it is to get to Lincoln Boulevard from Kezar Stadium?
We ran--yes, ran; at this point, a little extra exertion didn't cost much--through fields. We ran up the sides of hills. We followed others who were clearly trying to do the same thing, without much success.
Finally we made it out of the Park and worked our way to Deirdre's car. We were evidently right on time. She drove us back downtown, talking about all the baby stuff she and Greg had assembled last night and watching the baby shower video, which allowed them to find out what had missed while opening gifts. Considering the wide sweep she made--down by San Francisco State, then onto the freeway to go downtown that way--it was really nice of her to take us.
We got back to the hotel room and took turns showering. (Which is better than showering all together.) I went first and used all the conditioner, figuring neither Rob nor Gordon was particularly in need of it. Yes, I am making reference to how much hair they have, which was very short in one instance and receding in the other.
Darin showed up and whisked me away to my parents' house for lunch, which we had in their backyard. We talked about the construction of the new houses next door and the new arbitration gig my Dad's on. My Dad also mentioned that my Mom had told him I had stopped by the Convent, and I said, Yes, I did.
I caught them up on what was going on over there, and Darin said, "Tell them the real reason you went there." So I mentioned the valedictorian thing, only to discover my parents remembered my not being named valedictorian too, and they were angry about it. Which surprised me; I didn't even think they noticed.
My Mom told a funny story that I can't believe is true, but here goes anyhow: evidently, when I was 10 years old and met Doug Grant for the first time, I asked him if I could call him "Doug." After a slightly stunned pause, he told me that he was a teacher and I should call him "Mr. Grant." I have no memory of this; I can't believe I would have asked an adult if I could call him by his first name. These days I still have to remind myself it's okay to call other adults by their first name. But my Mom swears it's true.
Darin and I had to drive back down to Cupertino, rather than cross the Bay Bridge and get right on Highway 5. We had to sign some contracts at Mitch's. By the time we got to Mitch's, Darin said, "I'm going to take you up on your offer to drive."
This was not music to the ears of a woman who had gotten up at 6 to run a race. However, I was definitely doing better than Darin was, so I drove. First, I stopped at Coffee Society for coffee, and then we drove.
The drive back was uneventful. We were exhausted by the time the San Fernando Valley came into view. We made an order for takeout and Darin was so tired he called the wrong place, so first we went to Iwata Sushi, only to discover he'd called Terusushi. We picked up our order (finally) and went home.
I was completely tired, but I wanted to watch the season finale to the X-Files--is it just me, or has it seemed like there have only been 14 episodes this season?--which was written by Chris Carter and therefore unredeemable, voiceover-ridden, nonsensical dreck. And evidently I'm not the only one who felt that way, so it wasn't just my state of mind.
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Copyright 1999 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com