Miners Day got running on a wet morning only a dog could love, and they did, scampering to a fast start in the rain with their humans hardy enough for the opening 5K.
How many people signed up?
“Seventy-six,” said Lisa Blakemore, clipboard in hand under the organizers’ tent with a handful of other Twilight Rotary Club members over the drumming of drops, coming fast.
And how many showed up?
“Less than that,” she said to general laughter. “But a lot of dogs.”
Two young women signed in after the pack had taken off, still debating whether to give chase. They jogged toward the starting line as another woman signed in but shook her head.
“All good,” she said while picking up T-shirts. “We’re having breakfast. We’re good.”
Breakfast in the rain dimmed precisely no one’s spirits, even with the dash bearing a loaded plate and fast-cooling cup of coffee between the serving area and shelter at the bandstand.
Does it rain often on Miners Day?
“Almost never,” said a cheery Kathy Ostler, serving up hashbrowns. “But sometimes. And sometimes it snows.” She smiled widely. “So we’ll take this.”
A proper definition of community might well include a downpour and a huddled first meal under the bandstand at City Park. The warmth came from conversation among strangers, soon friends.
An older couple, who have lived here forever and now mainly travel — in a couple of weeks, to Greece. “While we can,” the wife said.
Sister Mary Ann and Sister Veronica, present with novices from India and Bangladesh who will return home in November and take their vows in January.
Veronica and Nancy, both happy to have grown up in Park City, though Veronica may move more toward Kamas as her hometown continues to grow. Nancy, a student at the University of Utah, has her sights on sports medicine. Veronica works at Edward Jones.
A smart, talkative woman with an anxious dog was born in London, had her British accent schooled right out of her in upstate New York, migrated here from suburban Salt Lake City with the growth there, and wondered where next if Park City continues doing the same.
It was a long breakfast, no one eager to venture quite yet up to Main Street, and so they sewed connections, exactly what Miners Day seems to be all about.
Well, besides the Running of the Balls and the parade.
MAIN EVENT
Before the 11,000 mostly yellow, paid-for golf balls were released, one of the emcees on a balcony near the bottom of the run asked for a show of hands: How many locals? A good showing. How many visitors? Another good showing. It wouldn’t have been this way at the breakfast.
The crowd was thin at first. A veteran of the event shook her head, though with a smile.
“So first of all,” she said and pointed, explaining normal years. “The crowd gets real big, out to the sidewalk.”
But then the sun improbably came out, and the throng along the track swelled in no time, if not quite thick enough to reach the sidewalk.
The light silvered, and teenage girls suddenly were running down the track — running ahead of the balls? Sure enough. The laggards were not gored, but some calves got peppered. An emcee had warned that the balls could get up to 40 mph.
And on they came, rolling and bouncing and flying, a veritable river, as all 11,000 flowed and threatened to overflow the bottom while designated ball catchers scooped with wide garden shovels and filled plastic boxes.
Behind them, where the winning balls lined themselves up through a funnel at the bottom to a single-file row, counters held up individual ones, carefully recording each number.
This was little Scarlett Hagopian’s big moment. She and her family from Scottsdale, Arizona, come every year, mom Heather had said before the big drop.
For Miners Day?
Nope. For the Running of the Balls. Scarlett, 3, can’t get enough. It doesn’t get any better than this for her, or anyone around her for very long.
MOVING ON
But, sigh, even big moments pass. The track was dismantled in a flash, and a parade came through faster than a cell phone could recharge. Candy everywhere.
Wesley, 2, and Dawson Dove, 5, with their mother, Maddie Dove, from Ogden, lingered for a long moment at their perch on the curb afterward when a thoughtful candy-giver stopped by, still bearing treats.
Later, when the action returned to City Park, announcer Tom Kelly gave round after round of human wheelbarrow races all the passion and excitement of U.S. Ski and Snowboard team glories before turning to the parade prizes. A hint: The Park City Museum represented well indeed.
Meanwhile, in a sometimes sunny tent not so far from the 5K sign-in station in that dreary morning rain, a couple of Park City Rotary Club members tabulated winners from Scarlett’s favorite of all events ever.
This job was not left to just any member. The lead counter was none other than Summit County’s treasurer, Corrie Forsling. Someday, maybe she and Scarlett will meet.
