Only a running race

I heard myself saying it to Jo: "it was only a running race", as an attempt to explain my somewhat diffident approach to the famous, 104th edition of the iconic Bay to Breakers event in San Francisco. Imagine London Marathon but with more alcohol and more students, and you have the idea. I entered it months ago just to do it, to tick the box. I had also entered last year, but ended up in the wrong country when it was on, so this year I was determined to get the job done. But, I wasn't really taking it too seriously. My focus is on Alcatraz, so this would be not much more then a training run for me. I haven't become all blase about stuff just because I'm in San Francisco - even though there is something going on every weekend - it is simply that Alcatraz is consuming me, part in fear (of the swim), part in hope (of a top ten age group finish), part in anticipation of doing one of the most iconic triathlons in the world.

So I rocked up at the start of Bay to Breakers without much of a plan. The elite and sub-7 pen were just ahead, and I was in Pen "A", supposedly for 7-8 minute milers. When I entered I had actually been on 6:45 pace but I couldn't guarantee still being in that form so I decided discretion was the better approach and went into Pen "A". I have recently hit a bit of decent form again, so I figured I could easily hold my own in that company for the 12K race through the Streets of San Francisco down to Baker Beach. For reasons that I don't understand, there is a tradition of throwing tortillas around and it was raining flatbread when I arrived and took up my spot. As the hooter sounded the start of the race there were idiots in Pen "A" who started walking! Others were meandering around like on a Sunday outing, while some found it necessary to veer from one side of the road to the other to wave at a friend or something equally inane. Now, I understand that its a carnival - I get that. I appreciate that people want to have a laugh, to dress up as santa, or the Super Mario brothers. Yes, all very funny, but can't you do that at the back? Why say you're going to do 7-8 minute miles and then clown around at 15-20 minute pace? It's the same at triathlons where people state a different swim pace so they can go off at a different time. I'm quite liberal (firm but fair, I'd say) in my views on this: if you're deliberately misleading, you're in the way and you should be shot. There was one very notable exception to this: a troupe of around 6 or 7 "wonderwomen" tied together in a line. I know what you think I'm going to say, but this isn't a sexist view - and you need to remember that as part of my defense on the "anti-gay" charge below. No, this group of young ladies looked like they might get in the way, but went off at something like 6:30 pace and I never saw them again! 6:30 tied together - a pretty fine effort by any standards!

So I spent the first mile tripping over idiots and trying to get past without serious injury, but then settled into a nice pace, around 7 minutes a mile. I didn't back off much going up the infamous hills as we wound our way up to Golden Gate Park, and I negative split my way to 6:40 pace at the end. There were a few fancy dressers now, but mostly serious runners as we got near to the finish, and I passed one guy dressed only in underpants. I considered this; there was a fair bit of bravery involved for sure, but I wasn't too impressed really. He was too well coutured for it to be funny, and I wondered what the motive was. I don't know how to put the next bit but - well, if I was going to do a run in my underpants in front of an estimated million viewers I'd want to have a bit more erm.... well, a bit more to show than he did. So I have to assume he had a sizeable ego. Anyway, I finished the run in a respectable 52 minutes, got my finishers medal and headed for the shuttle bus. After a few minutes, underpant-boy got on the bus. I thought that was even braver than running. This was a "Muni" bus - renowned for being rough as hell. They are 100% hoseable inside - all plastic. There are T shirts that proudly proclaim: "I ride the 38 Muni" and is worn by the heroes who survive that journey which is akin to a mobile crystal meth clinic. But our friend swaggers on like, well, like a - shall we say - "big guy"? I didn't know whether to be impressed at his bravado (nothing else) or just to feel sorry for him. He was very carefully crafted, evenly sun-bronzed (or sprayed, I wasn't looking that close!), eyebrows clipped to perfection and hair that looked like he'd just stepped out of the salon. Without seeming anti-gay here, he was a "pretty boy". They are a particular type, and I'm fine that they just get on with life. I'm liberal like that. But I was horrified when he made a beeline for the seat next to me. My liberalness doesn't extend to skin contact. It was a long journey and, to be fair to underpant-boy I think he sensed my unease and moved seats halfway through. So - back to the race result: I finished in the top 500 overall, and 6th age group, about a minute and a half down on the age group winner. I was saying to Jo that I probably lost most of that time by not starting in the Sub-7 pen, as I certainly hadn't seen anyone remotely near my age near the finish line. So a win had been possible if I'd tried a bit harder and committed a bit more. But, unlike my devastation at not making qualifying at Napa, or at missing the podium at Wildflower, I was cool with it. "Only a running race" I explained. Jo went bonkers and had a proper go at me. "So you're saying that you got up at 5AM, ran all that way, got that close - and you didn't give it everything you had?" I don't often see her this angry, and I felt bad. I tried to explain that yes, I had run as quick as I could and I had tried, but I just hadn't been in a "do or die" mode. She wasn't impressed. I felt small - not as small as underpant-boy for sure, but certainly a little inadequate!