Checkin' out the B2B

Yesterday marked a quirky, insane San Francisco tradition that I experienced for the first time. The Bay to Breakers roadrace, promoted as the oldest consecutively run race in the World, which depending on who's count you trust drew 65K-75K runners. Tens of thousands of unregistered runners joined in on the 7.46 mile jaunt from downtown out to Ocean Beach. And many tens of thousands more used the excuse to party and dress up in costumes and generally act like delightfully drunken fools on what was a foggy, funny Sunday. I volunteered to help at the barricade blocking the first intersection after the official start downtown where people can flood into the course after the elite runners pass. That meant I got in the race for free and could get a good view of the field of crazies from the very beginning. I definitely took it as a fun run and did little to push myself too seriously (I finished in 1:08.46). But for those that went through the official start and drank their way through the course, it took much of the day (all the runners weren't across the starting line for at least 45 minutes). I caught the bus downtown just before 5:30am to meet the volunteer street captains and I was pleasantly amazed to see a large number of old, young and decidedly not hard-core runners accompanying me on the journey to get in on the fun before the sun came up. Most of the other volunteers I met have done so for years and you saw all the personality-types on display - the "cop for a day" power junkies, the old sage hippies, the pseudo-philanthropic professionals looking for a free t-shirt and ready to bolt at the first opportunity, the grandmotherly voyeurs, the strangely-vague prison-release types, the pick-up artists, and me. Far, far too many people lining the course did so seemingly for a relatively recent phenomenon in the Bay to Breakers tradition - the "Bare to Breakers" nudists that strip down and run the race proudly, no matter what sort of body they may be sporting. Along the way, bands of all stripes and levels of skill set up and fill the air with noise. House parties especially up the Hayes Street Hill and along the panhandle of Golden Gate Park had their kegs on the sidewalks and their participants ready to pour beers or shots for the weary and increasingly-bleary on the course. I refrained from such refreshment along the way, although a guy dressed up in a Jose Cuervo bottle costume pouring shots almost unintentionally tackled me at the corner of Fell and Masonic. When the run was over, Sarah and I took Maya in her jogging stroller through the "Footstock" after-party in the Park. And then we all came home, had a filling lunch and took a nap together. In many ways, a perfect way to do my first B2B. Later in the day we watched the re-cap shows on local TV to see helicopter shots of the monstrous throngs of people and close-ups of the pack of elite pros that kicked the course's ass. 5 Kenyan men took the medals for the men (the top American was 10th overall). A Moroccan woman set a new course record and finished 12th overall. No one died, as far as I've heard thus far. A success for the City all around.

On the other side of the world, a very different sort of race in Lahore, Pakistan was shut down after a police raid, beatings and the arrests of the organizers. It seems that an uppitty group of women wanted to stage a protest run to bring attention to the fact that women can't run in marathons not to mention the litany of broader abuses of women in Pakistan and other increasing extremist Islamic countries. But it sounds like they're trying to re-schedule for next weekend. I'll keep you posted.

And it appears that TIME magazine has the first and most direct explanation from Dave Chappelle as to why he's gone missing. Sure beats the NEWSWEEK apology for the week about their "flushing the Koran" story that gave Afghani phreaky-phanatics the excuse to light the newspaper stuck in the kindling throughout the Muslim world last week. Ya win some and lose some in the bidness of mags, I suppose.