After 32 hours, some 500 miles by car and my first run up Doomsday Hill, I made it back home from my first trip to Bloomsday in Spokane on Sunday afternoon.

One of my friends and I have made many a trip to the Spokane area over the yeas and we decided that this year we should add Bloomsday to our list of experiences.

Initial impression: they don’t call it the Doomsday Hill for nothing. And if actually running up the monster of a hill from the Spokane River didn’t convince anyone of that, then the giant costumed vulture would have done the trick. Think meeting Mickey at Disneyland, except bigger, and actually kind of terrifying.

I am not a character meet and greet kind of girl. When I was a toddler I screamed in Mickey’s ear so loud he had to take a break. My general feelings about costumed characters haven’t changed much. So, yeah, I got to the top of the hill and scooted over to the side to avoid the Instagram-fest that was the gigantic, squawking predator, thank you.

On a different point, 50,000 people make for kind of a big crowd, especially at the starting line.

They had all of us lined up in corrals by color group and the music was pounding, the beach balls were flying, and there was an unofficial contest of sorts to see who could throw their sweatshirt highest in the trees that lined the street. The latter I’d never seen done before, but judging from the amount of apparel adorning the boughs I’d say it’s something of a Bloomsday tradition. After the race it all gets collected and donated.

It’s hard to really describe being at the starting line of a race if you haven’t been there. It’s like being in the middle of a mob that all starts running, albeit a friendly one, and fortunately everyone starts running in the same direction. There’s the walkers, the sprinters, the weavers, and the ‘hey that’s my friend and here come twelve of our other friends that are all going to try to sprint through the same two foot opening’ groups.

Imagine all those people getting funneled onto a two lane road.

There weren’t as many crazy costumes at this race, but there were plenty of tu-tus and colorful leggings as well as a variety of handmade Bloomsday themed shirts. For a while I was running near a lady who had on a shirt proclaiming her participation in her 35th Bloomsday. That’s some serious dedication. And it’s a lot of trips up Doomsday Hill. I was impressed.

Then there were the bands. Groups performing everything from rock to bluegrass to “Happy” were stationed along the course. Near the end they were practically placed on top of themselves in a get-pumped-up-you’re-almost-there kind of move. It made for some weird musical mashups.

After all that — the crowds and costumes, Doomsday and terrifying vultures — there’s nothing quite like making the final turn when you can finally see the finish line ahead.

We both survived and even agreed that we would do it again, so there’s that.