Scene along Twin Cities Marathon: Bananas, Alan Page, pickle juice

Five senses: 26.2 miles of hearing, seeing, smelling, tasting and touching.

From downtown Minneapolis to the Capitol in St. Paul, thousands of runners and a greater number of cheerleaders on both sides of that sinewy snake of urban endurance had their senses in receiver mode for hours during Sunday’s windswept running of the Twin Cities Marathon.

Alan Page, back in his usual spot in the first leg of the course, puffed out notes on his sousaphone as runners passed in his Kenwood neighborhood of Minneapolis. Every few minutes, a runner would pause for a selfie or words of admiration for the Vikings legend who went on to a distinguished career as a state Supreme Court justice.

The 79-year-old NFL Hall of Famer took a seat at his usual street corner in time for the most fleet of foot, and he stayed until the very last entrant passed.

Page, who has fired up his sousaphone on marathon mornings for the past 20 or so years, didn’t let last year’s heat-related race cancellation keep him from his annual one-man band performance.

“Some people were just going to run it, and we were out here,” said Page, who has a few marathons on his varied résumé. “I think they appreciated it.”

Page said he intends to continue showing up at the same corner for years to come.

“Definitely more,” was how he compared his enjoyment interacting with the marathoners with what they get from their celebrity encounter. “Many of them cheer me as I cheer them. ... This is my corner. If you ever need to find me on the first Sunday in October, this is where I’ll be.”

The early-morning start of Sunday’s Vikings game in London had University of Minnesota freshman Carson Helbling multitasking between miles 2 and 3: passing out cups of water to still upbeat runners with one hand and watching football on his cellphone in the other.

“It’s 0-0, not looking too good,” Helbling, sporting a Justin Jefferson jersey, said after sneaking a glance at his phone in the game’s opening minutes while taking care to keep from handing a runner an empty cup.

The Vikings would went on to beat the Jets 23-17.

Bananas, bananas and more bananas. That distance runner energy staple — 400 given out Sunday — was the smorgasbord centerpiece near Mile 22 along Summit Avenue, where four families hosted a pop-up carnival of sorts to keep up the spirits of runners as they tackled that slight-but-steady incline along the bucolic St. Paul boulevard.

There was a castle inflatable for the neighbor kids, a sofa sectional for the older crowd and even a television parked on a front lawn for Vikings viewing.

Anne Carter’s family and neighbors from three other households put on a spread for the marathoners and others there to watch the mostly locked-in runners push ever closer to the finish line. Along with the bananas by the boxful, Carter and her crew had plenty of other snacks, beverages and upbeat music for those pounding the pavement.

The spectators were not overlooked. There was an aromatic buffet of breakfast burritos, cinnamon rolls, fresh coffee and other drinks — some with no alcohol, some with a lot.

“Our four houses, we just combined forces, and we’re like, ‘Let’s cheer these people on,’ ” said Carter, who was decked out in a banana-patterned blouse and bright yellow shoes.

“Everyone needs a banana near the end,” she said.

The halfway point along Lake Nokomis presented marathoners with a tart-tasting experience in those little paper cups typically reserved for water and electrolyte recharging: pickle juice.

One runner after another gratefully downed the few ounces of the drink and got a surprise.

Many left the refreshment station with puckered faces. One forced the pickle juice down and looked in the empty cup in disbelief before he tossed it to the curb in pursuit of a flavorless alternative.

Zachary Pender danced the day away in a pickle costume as part of the curbside surprise.

“I think it’s great. It’s a special halfway point,” Pender said.

Thor, a relaxed golden retriever, attended the marathon with one assignment: Get as many runners to pet him as possible at points along the route.

“Pet me to power up,” read the sign tied around Thor’s neck.

“We’ve got three or four spots we’ll move around to,” said Tom Ditlefsen of Eagan, who along with wife Rachel were there to cheer on graduate school daughter Ainsley. “We’re always surprised how many will stop.”

While he encourages other athletes, Thor, at the ripe old age of 6½ years old, runs “only when he wants to,” Ditlefsen said.