Reunions

As our temperatures warm in the Carolinas and snowstorms drift off into chilly memories, it has become the season of yellow, stuffy-nose-causing pollen as well as that of unions and reunions.  While I am not planning on attending my 10-year highschool reunion in a few weeks, I did travel old, familiar roads back to my beloved Charleston this past weekend to see my beloved friend get married in a beautiful, old church downtown. 

The wedding was also a reunion of many sorts – It took me back to a town that still feels like home even though I moved away almost two and a half years ago, and it also brought me together with old friends (we’ve decided 40 is the new 30 so I mean “old” in the sense of “long-time”).  It’s interesting to see how much my friends and I have matured in the last few shorts years – unfortunately or perhaps fortunately we no longer dance at the edge of the Trio Club stage every Saturday night.  But it is also funny to see that in most ways we are the exact same – these girls still say the same ridiculous things that make me laugh.

From Left - Me, Spencer (The Bride), Lana, & Cristen

The city of Charleston is also evolving.  No – they have definitely not done away with any of the cherished historic architecture, but developers have found bare spots to erect new condos, and shops and restaurants have changed names and flavors since I last enjoyed them. 

One of Chucktown’s new establishments is the Bay Street Biergarten.  After the wedding, my girlfriends and I enjoyed drinks while sitting at the shiny new bar that blends cocktails as well as wooden and copper accents.  While enjoying the local Westbrook One Claw IPA, I thought it was interesting to think that when I first sat in this restaurant it was called The Boat House – I was just 22-years old, and I was interviewing for my first real job after college at the accounting firm across the street from the restaurant (You know I would have not gotten any work done if this place was a biergarten back then).  Now here I am, six years later, and my life as a CPA has already come and gone, and college graduation parties have been replaced with weddings.

Westbrook One Claw IPA at Bay Street Biergarten

Life as an obsessive runner had not yet begun in those days when I blessed enough to live in the holy city, but I believe Charleston is where the seed was planted.  Before dramatically increasing my mileage while training for my first marathon, the most miles I ever ran prior to that was probably during the year I spent living at One Cool Blow (that’s literally the address) at the foot of Charleston’s Ravenel Bridge.  I doubt I ever exceeded 15 miles a week, but I would often run from my urban condo across the bridge to Mt. Pleasant and back.  I think the trip was around 6 miles. 

I thought about those journeys across the Cooper River this past weekend while enjoying the view of the bridge from the downtown docks that hosted my friend’s wedding reception.  I also thought about how much I struggled up the Ravenel about a year ago during the Cooper River Bridge Run.  I remember telling myself that I would never run another 10K again….And I haven’t since then.  It just shows that even though I’ve come a long ways since I would I enjoyed a slow, weekly out-and-back route to Mt. P., I still have a lot of room for growth.

The Ravenel

Seasons change, people move away, others grow up, and some get married.  Often times we don’t realize the changes within us until we are reunited with our past.  In some ways, we may have thought we’d be further along in life, but in other ways we may realize that we are much stronger that we would have imagined.  I think it’s interesting to visit the past, especially the special places where dreams started.  The hope is that you will be a little further along each time you come back – a little bit faster running up that bridge.  And that’s why I’m tempted to sign up for this December’s Kiawah Island Marathon.  I’d like to come back to the little island outside of Charleston where I first remember really racing and pushing myself.  I think it would be neat to see how badly I can beat the old Paula and show that some things get better with age.   And pushing back the date of fall’s peak race to allow myself more time to recover and train would certainly be a bonus.

4 (Or 5) Weeks till Running!

I got off crutches on Wednesday.  I got back on crutches on Thursday.  The doctor seemed very disappointed that I have not healed as much as he had hoped I would in the past two weeks (I almost felt more sorry for him than I did for myself) so I have been put back on crutches for another week, which may increase my total recovery time by a week as well.  I’m not really surprised by the setback – I think disappointment has really just become the norm for me.  I think I’d be shocked if something went right, which is why I was skeptical that they could get me back running in just 6 weeks.  But I kinda feel like my running is like a bowl of lucky charms – I’m just eating all my boring, brown oats right now, and at some point I’m going to be able to enjoy a huge spoonful of some magical deliciousness.

This Week’s Beer Choice: Westbrook One Claw IPA – Mt. Pleasant, SC