Bix Weekend 2013

We watched the starting gun from the couch.

Two weekends ago, I took an impromptu trip back home to see the 39th annual Bix 7 Road Race.

Bix weekend is a strange-but-beguiling mix of a too-legit-to-quit dixieland and jazz festival, rowdy street festival, and 7-mile road race which loops past the bottom of my street.

The story behind Bix's jazz festival, however apocryphal, goes something like this: When pioneer dixieland coronet player Bix Beiderbecke -- a Davenport native -- died at age 28, Bing Crosby said to his musician pals, "Hey, sorry about our friend Bix. You know what might be nice? Going to Davenport and playing jazz on his grave." Sweet, right?

Festivals and a road race later, for the hell of it, here we are.  Until this year, I've done the race every year I've been in town, infancy notwithstanding. Somewhere there are pictures of my first Bix: me, age three, head of blond ringlets, riding on my dad's shoulders. When we got to the top of the first hill, I patted him on the head and said, "I'm done!" Here are some pictures I found while I was home:

What a good stretch! I've always been a master athlete, you guys.

This year, I completely freaked myself out by watching the race instead of jogging and/or walking it.  (Mostly walking, let's be real.) Luckily, I had my friend Giant Pitcher of Mimosas -- not to mention my friend Marlo Senior -- to keep me company on the sidewalk at 8:15 a.m.

Oh, did I mention my friend Baggie of Saltine Crackers? Thanks for the candid, Mom.

Here come the runners!

People run and walk the Bix in all sorts of wacky costumes -- one year I was the flamingo Beanie Baby -- and while I missed the the Elvi (plural Elvises) and the foam spine composed of Palmer College of Chiropractic students, there were still some characters worth seeing. 

Like this guy, who used a pool noodle to keep people in their lanes. 

Here are the Marilyns, who usually do the Bix side by side with the Elvi. Everyone picks up beer from bystanders along the way, because is either celebrity known for his or her athleticism? Please. 

There were propeller hats, not to mention my neighbor's brunch spread along the side of the road. 

The Phantom of the Opera frowned.

Trojans? 

A cute wolf hat

 And my cousin Christy, who did the Bix for the first time (and who was not prepared for the roadside mimosa I handed her as she ran by. Sorry, Christy).

My trip was too short to hit the jazz festival or feign interest in funnel cakes at the street festival, but I'm still glad I came home to see the race, even if merely spectating freaked me out. Thanks for the jams, Bix.