Colorful costumes, loud cheers and crushed tortillas marked the start of San Francisco’s zany Bay to Breakers footrace Sunday as thousands of runners surged off the starting line in a flurry of dizzying forward motion.

Participants—dressed as everything from cowboys to hot dogs with condiments—hit the streets early, with some donning race-issued pink T-shirts featuring the city’s iconic Painted Ladies houses. Others went all out in cartoon, comic book or spotted cow costumes and helmets.

The runners surged off the starting line in a flurry of colorful fabric and loud cheering, pounding hundreds of tossed tortillas into the tarmac beneath their feet.

From morning and well into the afternoon, it was prime time for people-watching.

Cowboys blurred into groups in orange prison jumpsuits or screenshot-perfect Oompa Loompa uniforms, with distracting touches like a little fluorescent green tulle here or a pair of inflatable chickens there.

As is so often the case in any public and free event, a hardy few joined the yearly rite by insisting on their right to wear as little as possible, with a few minor exceptions made for spandex or skivvies or by accessorizing with baseball hats, head coverings and race-appropriate footwear. Others mostly kept it moving and took it all in stride.

In addition to the spirits some spent valuable race time surreptitiously sipping on or openly guzzling, others’ spirits seemed to soar ever higher as the morning’s low clouds began to burn off, and thousands of people powered westward along closed-off roadways, accepting cheers and the odd orange slice or two from generous onlookers.

Showers of blown bubbles drifted into the air along Fell Street and came down equally atop a costumed swarm of bees, a walking watermelon slice, a spotted-cow-onesie sporting competitor.

By the time many reached the finish line, stiff breezes flew the state and U.S. flags and seemed to put wind into the sails of runners who powered across with uplifted arms and jubilant shouts.

Rather than doling out dates one by one, Wheeler and Kennedy decided to throw a party, and invite all the interested women, plus any of their single friends (both male and female) to join the festivities. It all led to last Saturday’s 50 First Dates-themed “I believe in a thing called love” party at Fort Mason, attended by around 100 people who came to flirt over White Claws, rub shoulders underneath a “compliment circle” (a large parachute, the kind you used to play with in pre-school), and test their compatibility over thumb wars and mural making.  

“I can’t date over 100 people,” said Wheeler in a phone call ahead of the party, which also doubled as his 37th birthday bash. “The very least I could do is just throw a big mixer, and invite all my single guy friends, and just have a big party, so I can say thank you to everyone.”  

The partygoers came with a range of expectations and intentions last Saturday—from wingmen and women lending their support for Wheeler to curious singles who wound up there after falling into an Instagram rabbit hole. Many found the quirky games and setups for possible meet-cutes preferable to the endless doom swiping of Tinder, Hinge and Bumble.