GO WITH THE HERD

When I was in high school I ran cross country and track, and I also did a few local 5K races. During college I lost interest in getting up early for “free” t-shirts. Until last weekend, I hadn’t done a single race in 20 years. My wife, on the other hand, does triathlons and other types of races all of the time.

Christy finally talked me into doing a race with her. The first weekend of April we traveled to Charleston for the annual Cooper River Bridge run (http://www.bridgerun.com/about.php). This famous (or infamous?) race started in 1978. It’s a 10K run, from the town of Mount Pleasant, over the Cooper River Bridge, and into downtown Charleston. When I agreed to sign up for it, I failed to realize just how big of an event it has become. This year, 40,000 people signed up for it (though only about 35,000 finished). To put that number in perspective, as of the 2010 census the total population of Charleston was only 120,000. Oh, and that first race in 1978? It featured around 1,000 participants.

Since the early days, the race has evolved into quite an event. Many participants show up in costume. Bands line the course, and the after-race festivities are legendary.

Luckily we didn’t have to work on Friday, so we were able to head down early. First though, I took Boone over to McDowell Park to get him some exercise. I wanted to tire him out a little so he didn’t torment our house sitter all weekend. We hiked my favorite trail at McDowell, the Creekside Loop. That trail passes through a stand of surprisingly large trees (at least by Mecklenburg County standards). I also found some wildflowers blooming, including an impressive patch of Periwinkle. Mayapples were carpeting parts of the forest, although they weren’t in bloom yet. Near the end of our walk, we passed the remains of a wooden structure that may have been a deer stand. The amazing thing to me was that I’ve hiked this trail dozens of times, but I’d never noticed it before. How does that happen?

After our walk we went down to a cove of Lake Wylie so Boone could swim. Nothing tires him out like swimming across the lake to fetch a stick. On our way down there I noticed that the stream that feeds the cove has been dammed up by beavers. I didn’t even realize there were beavers in the area.

We headed home and started packing for our weekend. Traffic was terrible on the way down. Apparently most of the 40K people doing the race were coming from Charlotte, Columbia, or Greenville. We had contemplated driving into downtown Charleston Friday night, but figured that it would be a zoo down there. I wasn’t interested in spending all evening looking for a parking place, so we drove straight to Mount Pleasant and checked into our hotel. We stayed at the Holiday Inn Express because 1) it was less than 2 miles from the start of the race, and 2) free for me with my Priority Club points. Traveling for a living has its perks.

We went to dinner early since we expected it to be busy. This was a good move, as the place was packed by the time we left. The food at the Shem Creek Bar and Grill was decent, but the highlight was probably watching the sun set over the marsh. Unfortunately I’d left my camera back at the hotel.

After dinner we drove out to Sullivans Island to check out the beach. Sullivans Island is residential, and the beach has no facilities. On the other hand, parking is free. One odd thing we noted about Sullivans Island is that residents and visitors with dogs are required to purchase dog permits for $35. We had to break the bad news to Boone when we got home that he’ll never be visiting Sullivans Island!

We parked near an interesting beach-front house that looks like a moon base:

http://image26.webshots.com/26/9/35/39/391593539WoApHn_ph.jpg

From there we walked out to the beach. We didn’t spend much time, as it was rather windy and chilly and we were worried about getting sand in our running shoes. It wouldn’t take much sand to make that 10K race miserable! From there we headed back to the hotel and went to bed early. After all, we had to be up early for the race the next morning.

We got up at 6 on Saturday and ate our bagels. This was a good move, as the free breakfast in the lobby was a madhouse. We walked a block down to the Holiday Inn, where we joined a throng of people waiting for a shuttle bus to the starting line. This didn’t look encouraging. There must’ve been at least 50 people there. Apparently they’d already been waiting for awhile, too. Ten minutes later a 12-person van showed up. At that point the crowd had crowd even larger. It was obviously hopeless.

We ended up walking the 2 miles to the starting line. The walk served as a decent warm up, and it saved us $5 each. That would be good for a beer or two after the race! We also passed a row of porta potties on the way. These didn’t have a line, unlike the ones we encountered near the starting area. There we literally saw hundreds of people waiting in front of 20 or 30 toilets. We were fortunate that we got that out of the way early on!

We walked the rest of the way to the starting area, which was a complete circus. There were people everywhere, and many of them were in costume. We saw 4 shirtless guys in short shorts and knee high pink socks. More appealing was a group of girls dressed up as Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Hey, if you’re gonna go for the slut look, why not go all out? If I do this race again, I’m coming in my own costume. I think I’ll dress up like a sheep. That would be appropriate, since we spent most of the day following the herd. Baaaaaa!

Our next challenge was finding where to drop off our sweat bags. One of the services provided by the race was hauling bags of gear to the finish line. We had stuffed a change of clothes and our sweats into a trash bag, but now I was concerned about finding the drop off before the race. Fortunately a volunteer was able to point us in the right direction.

When we signed up for the race we had included our estimated finishing time. At that point Christy and I had planned to run together. We had signed up for the 49-60 minute group. At the time that had seemed realistic. Unfortunately Christy’s recovery from shoulder surgery in December had taken longer than expected, and she hadn’t been able to train for this race. In addition, an old hip injury had flared up during her limited training. As a result, she was planning on walking at least part of the course. Although I hadn’t planned on all-out racing, I didn’t really want to walk, either. We decided to do our own races, and made plans to meet near the finish line. I had my doubts about how we’d find each other in a crowd of 40,000 people, but decided to worry about that later.

We eventually found our way to the staging area where our group (group D) was situated. We arrived late, so we were near the back of that group. This ended up being poor strategy. I spent most of the race weaving in and out of traffic, as most of the runners in our group were moving at a slower pace. Even though the entire road was closed to traffic, it was still shoulder-to-shoulder runners most of the time. Early on I thought the crowds would break up after a mile or two, but that never happened. In fact, it actually got more crowded towards the end, thanks to the narrower streets in downtown Charleston.

Despite this, the race was fun. The highlight was the bridge itself, even though it required running uphill into a headwind for over a mile at a 4% grade. The view from up there was amazing, even though I spent most of my time dodging the people in front of me. The low point of the race came on the way down, when some doosh stepped on the back of my shoe. My foot was most of the way out of the shoe in mid-stride, but somehow it went straight back in when my foot came down. Amazingly, I didn’t have to stop to adjust the shoe or retie the laces.

The other highlight was the many bands lining the race course. Some of them were quite good, including a Cajun-type band early on and a blues band near the end. My favorite though was a group of Indians (Native Americans) playing drums on the far side of the bridge. That put a little spring in my step.

Early on I decided that I should try to finish in less than 50 minutes. I would’ve done it, too, if it had been for all of the weaving around and occasionally needing to hit the brakes to avoid running someone over. I’ll bet I ran closer to 6 ½ miles with all of the zig-zagging around. Heck, I even ran on the sidewalk for a bit in the last mile.

If I do this race again, I’m signing up for a faster group. I doubt very many people in group D actually finished in less than an hour. My official time was 51:21. Christy ended up running about 4 miles and walking 2. She was actually pretty happy with that, as prior to the race she thought she might have to walk the whole thing.

After the race I walked beyond the finish line to the sweat bag pickup station. Along the way I passed a Johnsonville truck that was serving fresh brats. At 9am. At that moment, it struck me as the most disgusting thing imaginable. I had expected a lot of difficulty finding our sweat bag, but they were organized by last name, and I found ours in all of 20 seconds. I changed clothes in a porta potty (don’t call me Superman) and then ate a Johnsonville Brat. It was delicious.

I walked back down to the finish line, and miraculously, Christy found me minutes later. We then commenced with a full-out assault on our digestive systems. I followed up my Johnsonville Brat with flavored water, a bagel, an apple, and some ice cream. I was going to get some BBQ (after the ice cream) but they ran out. Aside from the feasting, we spent the next hour or so enjoying the post-race festivities. First there was a band, and later a wedding. We picked up some free loot and did some people-watching. Eventually though we began to run out of gas. We decided to save the post-race beers for later. We walked down to the dock and caught the ferry over to Patriots Point. From there it was another mile and half walk back to the hotel. Christy had had enough, so I fetched the car and picked her up.

We took showers and had a late lunch at a (mostly) vegetarian restaurant in Mount Pleasant called the Mustard Seed. The food was good, and the prices were quite reasonable. After lunch, we drove over to the Isle of Palms and sat on the beach. We parked at a public lot close to the beach ($5 all day) and then plunked ourselves down in the sand. Unfortunately it was an exceptionally windy day, and we spent most of the next couple of hours getting sand blasted. Eventually we had enough of that and headed back. We went to Wild Wings for dinner, which was a great place to finally enjoy some post-race beer and the NCAA basketball tournament.

On Sunday we slept in a bit and then took advantage of the free breakfast in the hotel lobby. We checked out and drove back out to the Isle of Palms. This time we parked at a metered space and paid $3 for 3 hours. Conditions were much nicer this time, as there was hardly any wind. I spent most of the next 3 hours reading a book and getting a sunburn on my legs. Apparently my theory that my legs were tan enough to not burn without sunscreen was incorrect. Our main entertainment on the beach was watching as a group a short distance away got busted by the police for having alcohol. Apparently they had missed the numerous signs stating that it was prohibited, as they’d made no effort to hide it. We were close enough to overhear the entire encounter, and apparently the fine for having alcohol on the beach at the Isle of Palms is $1,090. Yikes! Just before the officer left, I heard him talking to someone on his walkie-talkie. I heard him say that he was going to walk the beach for another hour or so and see if he could write a couple more tickets. I guess we know how the Isle of Palms is balancing the budget these days!

We left the beach early Sunday afternoon and stopped at a Mexican restaurant for lunch on the way. Apparently we hadn’t tormented our digestive systems enough that weekend. After eating we joined the hordes on I-26. Traffic started off bad and only got worse. Before long we found ourselves in bumper to bumper traffic in the middle of nowhere. Using Christy’s new IPhone, we determined that we still had 11 miles to go before we reached the I-95 junction. At the rate we were going, I figured it would take 2 hours to get there. This didn’t sound appealing to me, so we got off at the next exit. From there, we went a mile out of our way to highway 178, which conveniently runs parallel to the interstate. Before long we were cruising at 65 mph through the open countryside with hardly any traffic to keep us company.

As we were driving, Christy wondered why more people didn’t think to do what we’d done. My answer? Most people are sheep that are afraid to leave the herd. Either that, or they have no idea how to get anywhere without a navigation system to direct them. Christy has one of those things in her car, and it was really upset with us for taking our own route.

Aside from saving us a few hours, highway 178 had other benefits. If we hadn’t gone that way, we never would’ve driven through Bowman, SC. And if we hadn’t driven through Bowman, we never would’ve encountered its Official UFO Welcome Center. These are the kinds of things that you just don’t see along the interstate. I would provide directions, but if you want to see it, all you need to do is find your way to Bowman. Believe me, you can’t miss it. The welcome center itself is a UFO. Well, sort of. UFO stands for Unidentified Flying Object. This definitely qualifies as unidentified. Does it fly? Definitely not, unless it’s hit by a tornado or a hurricane. Is it an object? It’s more like an assortment of objects attached to one another with duct tape and bondo.

When I first saw it I uttered a “WTF” and then swerved to the avoid the gawking jackwagon that had stopped his car in the middle of the road ahead of me. I’m sorry I didn’t get any photos, but there are several good ones, along with lots of juicy details, here:

http://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/10911

My favorite part of this is that the welcome center isn’t for humans, it’s a welcome center for aliens. Apparently the owner, Jody Pendarvis, built the place to attract aliens that might be passing through the neighborhood. Humans are welcome to visit, too, for $3. It’s worth noting that the $3 admission is in US Dollars, not Alpha Centauri Dingleberries, or whatever. Apparently you can take a full tour of the place, if Jody happens to be around.

If you read the article above, you’ll probably come to the conclusion that the owner has been probed one time too many. Still, the most surprising thing to me about all of this is that Mr. Pendarvis has yet to be elected to public office in South Carolina. Given South Carolina’s recent run of politicians, I’d say he’s prime governor material. He should definitely run for it. That UFO would look awesome on the capitol lawn, with the confederate flag flying from the top.

We eventually found our way back to I-26. Traffic was a little better, but not much. In fact we got off again after a few miles and took another back road detour. This one didn’t unveil any particularly interesting sights though.

I’m not sure if Christy will be able to talk me into another race or not. Now she’s looking at one in August that involves wading a river, crawling through mud, hurdling flames, and climbing ropes, among other things. I wonder what kind of costume would be appropriate for an event like that?

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