Head-bangin' Wednesday

The idea of nonstop bands along a 26-mile course was a big part of the allure of a Rock n Roll marathon. The first 13.1 miles? Awesome. Those last, painful, lonely miles, were just that, lonely. The panorama was beautiful, don't get me wrong, but along the Mission Drive, the spectators were quite spares. Band....a mile of road....band....mile of road.


A couple of the bands on the backside weren't even set up when I went thru! Come on, people, it's not like I was first runner by! Anyway, our race numbers got us into the concert that night with headliner The Cult. Lou & Jessica were up by the stage, but for some reason I was more comfortable staying closer to my chair. The whole "standing" thing, and wanting to avoid the cloud of pot smoke looming above the crowd. I know, I'm old. A self-portrait of Miriam, Whitney et moi.





We didn't stay for the entire concert, but did hear "Rain" & "Firewoman"...my companions didn't know any of the music, so we abandoned the venue for the Riverwalk.











We were fairly close to the stage, but photos are tough.