The three school buses that lined one side of the expansive parking lot at Willamette Park waited in colorful contrast to the subdued early morning light and offered the only indication that the day would get more lively. Runners, some taking last sips of coffee or sports drinks before locking their cars, intrepidly made their way toward the buses where girls with red shirts and clip boards collected tickets and answered the same questions over and over.
"Is it okay for two cars to park in a large space reserved only for a car with a boat trailer?" The girls did not know. "Does it matter which bus I ride?" The girls said that it did not, but coyly added that the bus they were riding was going to be the most fun. I got on.
The one question that nobody dared ask was the destination of the small cadre of buses. Not only would it spoil part of the fun but the question would surely be deflected with a raised eyebrow. After all, this was billed as a "Mystery Run and Brunch" for those training for the Portland Marathon which was almost exactly one month later. For a mere $10, participants would be driven 20 miles from the park and enjoy a light brunch on the shores of the Willamette River at the completion.
The bus door swooshed closed and conversations turned to speculation and in some cases, wagering over the the direction of the next turn of the steering wheel. Some folks asked each other if school bus seats had always been so munched together so tightly or if their perception had changed since their last ride. We turned to the left and crossed the Sellwood bridge (pictured above) pointing east. The driver lowered her sun visor and squirmed higher in her seat to get above the glare of the sun now blaring through the windshield.
I sat by myself on the ride, just occasionally making small talk with the runner in front of me and the one across the aisle. My second and unused ticket for this run was tucked into the small zippered packet on the back of my black running shorts. I had made several calls during the last two days trying to find someone to take the ticket I had bought the week before for my friend Randy. The odds of finding some ticket deficient runner soliciting in front of the buses that morning was about as pathetic as my phones the day before. "I see. You don't feel like going for a 20 mile run from an undisclosed location tomorrow with less than 24 hours notice huh? I understand. Can you think of anyone else that might want to go? No, huh? Did I mention the brunch afterwards? I did. Okay, thanks."
So with a purple ticket as a souvenir stuck in my shorts we continued east. The bus left the suburbs, crossed over the I-205 freeway and took another gear. I looked up when I heard this and gazed around as we picked up more speed. We had come so far already it seemed. We went through an area of warehouses. I saw a cow in a large field. The scenery turned more lush and still we drove on with our little yellow convoy.
I felt some comfort that no one else seemed to be worried. But was everyone else here some brand of super elite mutant runner capable of ultra distances and I had somehow made a mistake? Had I gotten on the wrong group of buses? Had I misread the flyer and this was a 40 mile run? Damn! I had not brought my cell phone so I couldn't call my wife to come and fetch me. Maybe I could find a phone to use like in the old days. But I had no money. "Okay just relax. I ran the same distance last week. This just looks farther."
We passed through the burg of Damascus and kept going. It wasn't until we got to the next town, Boring, that we pulled into a gravel parking lot. All I had to do now was run all the way back to Portland.
To be continued...
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