Once again it's time to gear up for Bay to Breakers, the annual shitshow/foot race/straight pride parade that everyone loves to prepare costumes for, and no one likes to clean up after. Having experienced a few of these things, we here at SFist have prepared a guide custom-made for several different types of racers who one typically sees participate in this event. One of these may very well pertain to you, so you'd best read on.

Racer Type A:
You actually trained, or something. You haven’t had a sip of alcohol in 48 hours and you rose bright and early at 4 a.m. to start stretching. You properly registered and you are wearing appropriate running attire — i.e. you are fully clothed. You will make it to Ocean Beach and you might even be in the first 200 finishers. No one you know will be up that early to congratulate you except, maybe, a dutiful significant other.
Where to Eat: You just expended a whole lot of calories, so you deserve a nice, carb-rich breakfast! Might we suggest the excellent breakfast sandwich at Devil's Teeth Baking Company? Or perhaps some of the *original* $4 toast at Trouble Coffee Co.
How This Will End For You: You've got a full day ahead, and that seven-mile job was nothing compared to the marathons and half-marathons you do on the regular. Why not go lift a few weights and head to the farmers' market Civic Center for some healthy dinner fixings? To get there quickly, you might want to use Muni's special express shuttle service, which is going to run you $12 but there may literally be no other way to get home unless your S.O. brought his/her Vespa.

Racer Type B:
You and your friends have coordinated your Flappy Bird costumes (or similar), likely led by one organizational force among you, and you started pre-gaming at 6 a.m. Some of you have not slept since Friday. Some of you are showing midriff. This is not your first time at this rodeo, and you totally have a party to duck in to along the route in Hayes Valley.
Where to Eat: Food? You had a protein bar with your gallon of vodka cranberry at 7. You're good.
How This Will End For You: The group totally splinters and some of you land, hopefully face up, in Alamo Square, partying with another set of Flappy Birds and talking about how awesome this is that you both chose these costumes. Another faction makes it as far as the Panhandle, where at least one person pukes, and one girl has ceased being able to walk unassisted. Lyfts will be impossible to find, but somebody manages to get an UberX at 4x surge pricing to ferry home those in the worst shape. The rest of you stumble to the Haight and continue drinking where anyone will allow you to. Probably Martin Macks or The Gold Cane.

Racer Type C:
You're brand new in town and you've only just heard about San Francisco's version of Mardi Gras (or the Kentucky Derby, or whatever the big party at your undergraduate institution was) and you want to get in on the action, but have not actually registered for the race. You'll need to jump in the action somewhere mid-route. Say, around 9 a.m. or so. Once you realize the all-day party you were promised actually ends when DPW starts hosing down the streets at Noon, you won't make it past Stanyan Street.
Where to Eat: Since your half-assed group is going as a couple of cartoon breakfast cereal mascots, you had to empty out a box of Trix before you could use it to hide your beer stash. Replace any confiscated beers with fresh ones from Bi-Rite along with some organic potato chips.
How This Will End For You: When the street sweepers roll in, duck into Madrone for the afterparty.

Racer Type D:
Then you have your festive gay male racer. You join the fray with your gaggle of inebriated friends, almost on time, each carrying thermoses of Mandarin Absolut and soda.
Where to Eat: You must be joking.
How This Will End For You: After the race gets to be too much, you and your brood (sporting identical plunging v-necks or pairs of bikini swim briefs) escape the heterosexual madness and rendezvous at Hi Tops to hunt for dudes and barf in the urinal trough. This may require two cars.

Racer Type E:
You woke up hungover at 9 a.m. to 30 texts from friends you promised to meet up with. You live vaguely near the race route, and make your way tentatively into the daylight.
Where to Eat: Popeye's on Divis is the only thing that makes sense right now. Followed by at least 3 forties, to take the edge off.
How This Will End For You: See below, at about 1 p.m.


Brock Keeling and Andrew Dalton also contributed to this post.

Photo: Eugene Reshetov