As with most races, I started preparing for the 101st annual Bay to Breakers 12K the night before — eating a healthy, carb-heavy dinner …
… and carefully setting out my clothing for race morning.
The alarm went off far too early for a Sunday morning, but Pete and I didn’t hesitate long. After all, we had to figure out the optimal proportion of champagne to orange juice for race-day hydration.
Unfortunately, we soon realized our water-bottle mixology experiments had taken away our chance to catch the last train to the race start. Luckily, we live not far from the race course and knew we could hop in along the way. It wasn’t the tortilla-throwing, cheering, loudspeakered official start, but it would have to do. So we dressed in our best wicking gear …
…and walked a mile into Hayes Valley, entering the course somewhere around mile two.
Unfortunately, my Nike sportwatch took a while to connect to satellites …
… but we just followed the helpful signs posted along the way …
… and soon we made it to the top of the hill, where a bunch of Elvii were waiting to celebrate our athletic feat.
The hardest part of the course was behind us, but we’d sadly polished off all of our hydration. And unlike others, we hadn’t thought about a refueling strategy.
Then, for a moment, we thought the race might be occupied!
But our games of “real cop or fake cop?” made us confident that everyone would be kept in line, and soon, we were smiling for the cameras in the park.
Just as our energy was starting to flag, we spotted those namesake breakers.
After a hard left turn onto the Great Highway, the end was in sight.
And before long, we were crossing the finish line at the stellar pace of three-point-something miles per hour.
I learned a lot from this race, and I look forward to applying some of the key lessons to my future athletic endeavors. Such as:
- Ten ounces of mimosa is not enough to fuel 10 miles of walking; better pack a second bottle next time.
- Maneuvering in a portapotty while wearing a unicorn horn is not the easiest.
- Forget Niketown or Fleet Feet; Party City is where the real elites shop.
- Eight miles must be a really long way to walk in a full-body fox costume.
Watch picture or it didn’t happen.