Today I ran a road race between the wharves at Santa Cruz and Capitola, a distance of a little more than 6 miles. Runners are thinking, That’s a 10K, but you’re wrong. It’s a wharf-to-wharf race, and the distance varies historically based on existence of runnable roads or paths, construction, and access, among other factors. That is to say, it’s not a sports-association-approved, official qualifying race for anything. It’s just a fun way to exercise with friends, family, and neighbors.

Having lived less than two blocks from the Boston Marathon for several decades, viewing it more than twenty times, I had expectations. After all, there are some similarities. Runners pre-register and get a bib, which includes electronic tracking. There were 16,000 runners allowed in W2W; Boston had almost twice as many signed up this year, but its metropolitan area is 17 times larger, so this is a very big event for greater Santa Cruz. Streets are closed during the race, and there are water stations. Many of the top finishers of both genders are from Kenya or Ethiopia. Someone announces the names of the finishers on a PA system.

Most characteristics are different. Anyone can register, no experience required. Arriving and lining up is extremely casual. At least twelve bands entertained us en route, including a high school marching band, two Taiko drumming groups, three rock bands on stages, and several front yard collections of mostly guys with various instruments. People who saw their friends on the sidelines stopped to hug and chat; there were no barriers between supporters and runners. The water stations were manned by people who had been exposed to the idea of holding cups out for us but clearly weren’t under pressure to do so consistently, and most runners stopped to drink then took the time to place their cups in garbage bags. I surprisingly did experience a touch of post-race cooling, but I was not surprised that there weren’t mylar blankets. The cops stayed on the sidelines. No motorcycles, no helicopters, no flyover, no apparent press, no timing trucks.

The water, by the way, was terrible, as tap water is here. I tried one cup early on, and was concerned about contracting giardiasis. Thankfully, a few miles later there were two lovely women handing out cups of flavored Poland Spring water, which got me through to the end. We ran most of the way, but stopped to greet several people.

Sorting the runners into corrals by bin number–related to one’s self-reported rate–was enforced this year, although to run with a friend one could choose a slower corral, which my friend generously did. We were in the slowest bin and crossed the start line about 17 minutes after the starting gun fired. Another change this year was No Wheels, including No Strollers. Apparently strollers were well-represented last year. Fancy that.

Much of my experience was possibly different for those in the Elite corral, who finished in about half an hour. My net time was 1:27:19.

I moved sea-to-sea to run wharf-to-wharf.