Dry Run

It became apparent to me in the first mile that I ran. I wasn't in a race. I was in a parade. I dodged spectators who felt compelled to cross the course in spite of the throng of the stream of humanity moving perpendicular to their efforts. I had to keep an eye out for parked cars that lined both sides of the street. There were herds of transvestites making their way up the hills of San Francisco in their heels. There were naked people. There were carts being pulled by teams. And everywhere I looked, people were drinking.
I understand the importance of remaining hydrated when one is exercising, but this wasn't the kind of drinking that was going on. Bloody Marys, Mimosas, and plenty of beer was readily available both on and off the course. The snail's pace that I felt that I was able to maintain through the throngs of party goers was further hampered by the behavior of those around me. I might expected to see people lurching or staggering about after an hour of physical exertion, but this wasn't the case. All the stumbling and weaving I witnessed came from those who fully embraced the festive atmosphere found at the Bay To Breakers.
By mile five, I had made up my mind to skip this particular display of Bay Area Bacchanalia. I would seek out other ways to test my strength and endurance. I chose to file it under "not my bag," and leave it at that. Fast forward seventeen years: "Bay to Breakers is very concerned that someone is going to get hurt or worse because of the over-consumption of alcohol," race spokesman Sam Singer said. "Unfortunately, people can't control themselves." So from now on, there will be no floats, and no booze. Those who are caught breaking the rules will be cited and fined.
And I confess, I'm a little bit sad. While I chose not to participate, it was one of those things that was uniquely and absurdly San Francisco. True, it didn't impact me in the way that the neighborhoods along the course of the race were affected. My yard wasn't the target of anybody's queasy stomach or full bladder. I don't have to run behind a chariot full of drunken fraternity boys straddling their kegs of beer. It was the behavior of other people, across the bay. And now, at least for the time being, the party is over. Perhaps race organizers can pick a different time and place to sponsor a twelve kilometer Drink and Puke, you know, for kids.