TMI: Bay to Breakers Memories

I neglected to run the Bay to Breakers race this past Sunday. A weather report of high humidity with a chance of showers and lack of training because of tendonitis in my Achilles heel were my primary excuses for skipping this. I think since my first race in 1987 I've only participated in about 40% - 50% of the time, so it has not become some "can't miss"” ritual.

I actually did manage to finish in the top 10,000 one year despite running quite slow that year. That helped me realize that the most significant determinator of final placement was how close I could get to the starting line before the gun sounded. In high school, I could run at a 7-minute pace but always arrived really late, and started near the back of the pack. I'’d be lucky if I crossed the starting line before the winners crossed the finish line. And it would take two miles of walking before the crowds were dispersed enough to allow for some jogging. Many years and 50 pounds later I consider lucky to maintain a 6 MPH pace. But I showed up over an hour early and squeezed my way to the front. This time people were passing me up like crazy but I could start jogging much earlier, and had my best finish. I suppose this is proof that experience and ability do not always go hand in hand, but given one of the two, experience is more important.

After finishing in the top 10,000 and seeing my name in the paper, I've been satisfied with starting in the back again. It allows me to spend more time tossing tortillas like they were Frisbees. I can sit back and enjoy the music from the garage bands who set up mini-stages on balconies or driveways all along the route. It'’s also a more fun to pass people than to be passed while seeing more of the regular characters who participate in this public parade each year. There is a group that runs with a tiki hut made of bamboo and grass stocked with several forms of alcoholic refreshment. There is a caterpillar team of land sharks. They wear shark fins on their heads and you can watch those fins undulate above the sea of thousands of other racers. There is always at least one group of Elvis impersonators. There are lots of people wearing costumes that represent topical humor. One favorite a couple of years ago was a guy who was inside a huge cardboard box painted metallic grey. It had a fairly well made paper mache head resembling Arnold Schwarzenegger. Finally it had two extensible arms with foam rubber hands that could reach out and touch unsuspecting runners from behind, and was particularly fond of runners in Hooters uniforms (some of questionable gender). It was called "The Gropernator."” There usually are even runners with no costume at all, but at least 99% of them should keep covered for asthetic reasons.

This brings me to my oddest encounter with the "Rich and/or Famous"” or in this case, Infamous. After finishing the Bay to Breakers in 1993, I found myself standing right next to a man who looked vaguely familiar to me. He was taller than me but slouching a bit. He was wearing a light-blue button-down wool sweater because it was rather cold and foggy by the ocean. I thought it was still sort of an odd thing to wear while running even for this crazy race because it was so conventional. But I did not spend too much time trying to remember who he was. I was too busy catching my breath and checking out the other runners. Then I spotted a large group of teenage girls on the other side of the road. Half of them stood motionless looking in our direction with their eyes wide open and jaws dropped while the other half giggled uncontrollably and pointed us out to even more of their friends who would then have a shocked look on their face as well. At first, I guessed they recognized the "celebrity" standing next to me too, but then again, their eyes and fingers were not exactly directed at his face, but seemed to point further downward. Then they ran off and hid when they caught me looking back at them. So I suddenly had to make sure I didn't misjudge the finger pointing, so I checked if I was the one experiencing a very embarrassing wardrobe malfunction. When I looked down, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the man standing next to me only wore a pair of leather sandals with his sweater.

I realized it was the Berkeley Naked Guy! He had made many headlines the year before with his "nude-in" protests at UC Berkeley, but the race was the first and last time I had met him in person. By that time, he was already yesterday's news -- until the day before this year'’s race, when I saw this tragic news story.