In years past, I’d wake in my fourth-floor garrett at Lyon and Oak, fuzzily wondering what was the hubbub. Peering down from my kitchen windows, I’d see the runners — many in oddball costumes — pouring up the street and through the skinny park. There, watching them and drinking my coffee, I would ponder life and experience the gratitude that comes of not being among them.
This year, there’s bad news about running naked.
It seems that every year more and more people run the 7.5 mile race without clothes, and let me tell you some of these folks are way too floppy, but in the main, skinny people run, and so it generally works out, if you follow me.
Last year, more than 200 skinny-dippers trundled through the streets, sort of like very late streakers joining the party twenty years later. However, this year the police have decided to issue citations to naked runners.
In fine San Francisco doughnut shop fashion, however, the police have announced that they will only issue citations to the folks who fail to clothe themselves after the finish line. After all, a tradition is a tradition, right?
And of course, when interviewed, it came out that the policemen felt that running into the race, demanding a driver’s licence, and writing up a ticket while trotting alongside the nudie runner … well, it’s just not their thing.