Bloomsday Perennial: Charles Bean’s streak nearly was lost with the wrong race bib

Charlie Bean has completed all 49 Bloomsdays, several of them accompanied by his wife, Carol. One year, he accidentally ran the race wearing his wife’s number, not his own, requiring a phone call to race founder Don Kardong to fix the error so he could maintain his Perennial status.

That year, Bean’s wife decided at the last minute not to do the race, so he grabbed what he thought was his number and headed to downtown Spokane. Both their numbers said “C. Bean” on them.

It’s a tradition that all Bloomsday Perennials – those who have run every race since the annual event started – get a special announcement when they cross the finish line, with the announcer giving their name and identifying them as a Perennial. That year, when Bean crossed the finish line, the announcer was silent. That made Bean take a second look at just what number he was wearing.

Bean said it was easy to prove that he was the one who had run the race.

“They had photos of me all throughout, so that worked out,” he said.

Bean, a civil litigation attorney in Coeur d’Alene for 48 years, was not long out of law school when the first Bloomsday came around in 1977. He played basketball but wasn’t a runner. A friend suggested signing up for the race.

“I did a little bit of preparation, like a week,” he said.

It was unseasonably hot that first Bloomsday, and that, coupled with the 1:30 p.m. start time, affected many runners.

“Many people I knew ended up in the hospital with IVs,” he said. “We ran by the YMCA, and there was a bush that was twitching. We reached in and pulled out a guy.”

Bean, however, not only made it through unscathed but thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

“I took advantage of the hoses along the way,” he said. “It was a fun event. You had so many people there, and it was brand new. There was so much excitement.”

He and his friends decided to come back the next year. In the early years, they would throw parties after the race, then as his family grew, his children began participating in the race with him. Bean said he never paid too much attention to his speed.

“I’m not truly a very fast person,” he said. “I never worried about my time.”

About 10 years in, he realized that he cherished the fact that he had done all the races and vowed to keep the streak going.

“It’s at the point now if I wanted to quit, I couldn’t,” he said. “You don’t continue this long unless you’re committed. It’s kind of a rite of spring.”

Through it all, that first race has continued to be his favorite.

“That was the most unique,” he said. “We were a ragtag bunch who didn’t know what we were doing.”

In addition to stacks of finisher T-shirts, Bean also has a drawer full of Bloomsday memorabilia, including posters, a hat and other items.

“I’m a pack rat,” he said. “If you give it to me, I’ve got it.”

One of those shirts has an international pedigree. One year, Bean drove to Seattle to get on a plane to Europe after he finished Bloomsday.

“I ran around Europe with the T-shirt,” he said.

In recent years, Bean, who will turn 78 in February, has had two hernia surgeries and a back surgery, but has still kept putting one foot in front of the other on the Bloomsday course.

“Any one of those could have finished me, but didn’t,” he said. “I am remarkably and blessedly lucky. My knees are good, my hips are good.”

He visits an athletic club three to four times a week, and he and his wife often take walks together so he can stay in shape for Bloomsday.

“I try very hard to defy father time,” he said.

Bean is trying to round up as many of his four children and 10 grandchildren as he can for the 50th running of Bloomsday in May.

“We’re trying to convince all the family to participate,” he said. “We’ll have a party afterwards.”