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Show Fair Forever, , , . , H6 I head for the door, peeling the banana. "Katie Lindstrom." • ' ' - , "That's nice!" Mom exclaims/ She bats her eyes like she's uncovereda great secret. "Does she know?" "It's no big deal!" I insist. "I did it for the turtles." Mom's grinning like a dumb parent so I escape to the garage to find my bike. The Coastal 5K begins and ends at North Pier. Runners jog up the beach and circle back when they reach the Marina. The first finishers are always the serious racers, running for the prize money and the ribbons. But most participants run to raise money . for the turtles, or just for the fun. Lately, runners have come up with the idea of dressing like sea life-fish and shrimp and crabs and such. Turtles, of course. Even clams and conchs. ., . I wonder if Katie dressed up. . I park my bike and squeeze my way through the crowd onto the pier. The first runners are far up the beach, so I leave the swarm and take the long stroll to the end of the wide boardwalk. A few old fishermen are ignoring the race, dangling long fishing poles. They look bored but content. The pier smells of fish and cut bait. I lean against the railing, enjoying the view from the end of the pier. I'm high over the water and much nearer the lighthouse than I am on my own dock. I watch as the light flashes a steady and tireless circle. From so near, I can make ouf the breakwater and the crashing surf. . \< , Y ' ;...-• 7 A fisherman baits a double-hooked line, then settles on a bench and zips his jacket. The end of the pier is breezy and cool. In a way, the race marks the close of the |