This past weekend, I returned to quite possibly my most
favorite city in the world and I place I used to call home – Charleston,
SC. I was dragged, kicking and
screaming, from the town about a year and a half ago with the promise that
Charlotte would provide greater opportunities and be a better place to
live. While I have grown to
appreciate Charlotte in certain ways, initially upon the leaving of my beloved
Charleston, I felt broken – like a Taliban detainee who had just been
waterboarded.
Thankfully though, Charleston is just a relatively short
(3-hour) drive away, and a few days ago – just for a short while – I was back
in town! I can honestly say that I
felt a little pitter patter in my heart and butterflies in my stomach that I
can’t remember feeling in a long time.
While I was technically back for official landlord business
related to a condo I still own, I managed to sneak in a great run before I had
to leave.
I started in Mount Pleasant at about 8:30 in the
morning. While I was planning on a
long run, I did not bring along my usual Gatorade in hand. I had decided that I was fine with
doing more of a glycogen-depleted run with my only fuel being a slightly mushy
banana for breakfast (and 2 cups of black coffee). I did not, however, think about the Charleston heat and
likely fluid loss. Even though I
had zipped up my credit card in the back pocket of my running shorts just in
case, I was thankful to see a local running store handing out bottles of water
at the foot of the Ravenel Bridge.
Fleet Feet Sports of Mt. Pleasant was like my angel in the Holy City
providing me a bottle of water at mile 1 of my run and then another at mile 14.
Leaving Mount Pleasant behind me with my cold bottle of
water in hand, I tackled the steep incline of the Ravenel Bridge that crosses
the Cooper River. I used to run
this bridge about once or twice a week when I lived at a condo building near
the foot of the bridge on the downtown side. Not being a consistent runner at the time, I remember having
to often take walking breaks on the bridge, and I even remember one time
getting so hot that I began seeing stars and was afraid that I would pass out.
At an easy 8:30 mile pace, the ascent was much easier than
the last time I ran this hill. Not
quite two months ago, I participated in the 36th Annual Cooper River
Bridge Run. The race was far from
perfect. For starters, due to a
late shuttle taking us through a tour of North Charleston, Daniel Island, and
Mount Pleasant, I missed my “competitive” heat and had to begin with a later
corral. Packed in like sardines,
hundreds of other people and I pressed towards the gate waiting to begin. The moment we were released, I shot
forward and accidently caught some chick’s headphones in my watch. Once untangled and completely
frustrated, I went out entirely too fast.
I was able to curb my pace after a few minutes, but once I hit the
Ravenel, I struggled to maintain speed.
I remember being thankful that I missed my competitive heat, because I
would have been embarrassed if some of the fast runners saw how much I slowed
down on the climb. All in all, I
was proud of my effort that day. I
ran the 10K in 38:15, the 28th fastest woman of 18,477. However, that bridge was a reminder of
how much further I need to improve and what separates me from those girls who
ran away with cash prizes that day.
Once I descended the bridge and landed in downtown Chucktown,
I continued my run south along East Bay Street. I passed my old office building where I spent so many hours
doing so many tax returns. I
passed the Charleston Beer Exchange (picture below) where I did a little
afternoon shopping the day before.
I continued running across the cobblestone streets until I hit the
battery at the point where the Ashley River and the Cooper River collide. I stopped for a moment, took a few deep
breaths, and felt the wind whipping across the water and hitting my face – making
my sweat feel cool as it trickled down.
After only a few seconds of rest, I continued running
alongside the battery on Murray Blvd until it wrapped into Tradd Street; which,
with its classic Charleston singles stacked tightly beside each other for the majority
of its length, Tradd is one of my favorite streets South of Broad. Cutting East across the peninsula, I
followed Tradd until I came to Legare, perhaps the most prestigious street in
downtown Charleston. I remember a
couple of years ago; one of the mansions on Legare was for sale for about
$24,000,000. However, in addition to
a pool and carriage house, that price tag came with its own ghost!
Late at night after the tourists had retired from their
daytime excursions and I had put in a long day’s work at the office, my dog and
I used to often walk Legare in silent darkness. I would look at those enormous, utterly beautiful homes and
wonder just how many tax returns I would have to prepare in order to some day buy
one.
At the end of Legare, I took a right on South Battery and
ran until I was able to take another right on Rutledge to begin my journey back
north. I continued running past
Bill Murray’s house, across Broad Street, and around Colonial Lake, until I
took a right onto Bull Street, the first street I ever lived on in
Charleston. I loved my quaint,
little 425 sq ft studio in an old Charleston single when I first moved in after
grad school. Quickly though, I
realized 425 sq ft wasn’t quite large enough for my golden retriever and
me. Passing by, the historic house
with its windows covered in ivy, my old apartment looked exactly the same as I
remembered.
Back in Cougar territory, I took a quick tour through the
College of Charleston campus before I crossed over Calhoun street and headed
north on King. I passed by the Spoleto
festival in Marion Square, which brings an abundance of art and performances to
the city each spring. I stayed on
King Street for a while until the design galleries and trendy restaurants
(including The Rarebit where I enjoyed this week’s beer choice) faded behind me
and I was north of Crosstown, an area that when I first moved to Charleston I
was told not to go. As a volunteer
at the Boys and Girls Club in Charleston (which has since closed due to lack of
funding), I learned that there is an East Side Gang and a West Side Gang in
downtown. One of the volunteers
used to break the rules and shuttle some of the kids from the East side over to
the local high school on the opposite side of the peninsula so they would not
have to walk through West Side territory and risk getting in a fight. I still remember one hot summer when
there were three homicides just in the month of August. The theory of one of my coworkers was
that people were just so pissed off because of the heat that they took their aggression
out on one another.
Upon reaching Huger (pronounced Hugh-Gee), I took a right
and headed east until I hit Morrison Drive, which turned into East Bay Street
as I headed south towards the foot of the Ravenel. Then, it was just one more up and over the bridge and an
easy mile through Mt. P., and I was back where I started. The total run clocked in at 15.5 miles.
While almost everyone believes that Charleston is a
beautiful town, I think there is something more about the city that makes it so
special. To me – Charleston is a
magical place. Whether I am
running the streets in the morning or taking a walk with my dog in the
stillness of night, I get the feeling in this town that anything is possible, and
dreams really can come true if you work hard enough. And so – for the love of Charleston – I keep running.
This Week’s Mileage: 48
This Week’s Beer Choice: Westbrook IPA (Mt.
Pleasant, SC) http://westbrookbrewing.com/
Westbrook IPA along side a cocktail at The Rarebit (474 King Street):
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