Between moving my family from Reno to Atlanta and the COVID-19 pandemic, it has been nearly seventeen months since I last ran a foot race. I had been getting out for morning or lunch runs along my neighborhood streets occasionally, but then I fell and broke my finger on one of those runs back in mid-October and hadn't run since. All of that gave me a lot of trepidation about accepting a last minute spot in the Daufuskie Island Half-Marathon. I had signed up for the race over the summer and had full intention of running, but it, but the available spots were very limited due to the ongoing pandemic and I was forced to join the wait list. I had essentially forgotten about it when the email came offering me a spot. I debated forgetting about it, but as my finger is now fully healed and I need something in front of me to get me motivated to run again, I decided to go ahead with it even though I knew my time would be far off of my PR set over a year ago.
Daufuskie Island is the southernmost barrier island of South Carolina. The private island is just a few miles north of Savannah, Georgia and can only be reached by ferry. No bridges exist. Having never been there or to Savannah before, I thought it would make a nice weekend get-away. I left work a bit early on Friday evening and drove down to Hilton Head Island, immediately north of Duafuskie and the site of the ferry departure. As it was late, I checked into my very nice accommodations and quickly fell asleep, knowing I had to rise early in the morning to catch the ferry.
Though, I got up a and ready to race early, some confusion on my part regarding the ferry departure location had me arriving at the check-in with only a couple of minutes to spare before the last boat departed. I had considered wearing just running shorts this morning, but thought better of it and I'm glad I did. The cold winds blowing off of the Atlantic Ocean make it feel around twenty degrees this morning, though the mercury shows ten or so degrees warmer. On the open waters between islands, there is nothing to stop the wind and I do my best to stay warm. The event organizers and ferry operators have put strict guidelines in place for wearing masks and social distancing, which I'm very glad to see. I'm also ecstatic that all of the participants seem to be following the guidelines.
Arriving at the island, I pick up my bib and find the line for the port-o-potties before heading over to the start. Unlike many races that have a strict start time, the organizers have a start window to help with social distancing. We are allowed to start any time between 9:30 and 9:45. As we are all chipped and timing is automatically collected as we pass over the electronic detection devices, it has no impact on a runner's overall time. It seems to work pretty well and all of the runners, including myself, are able to spread themselves out pretty evenly to avoid close contact.
I feel pretty strong the first mile as we run through some of the colonial inspired neighborhoods on the northern end of the island. I've made a personal commitment to run at least the first five miles, after which my body will dictate if I'm able to run further or walk. The scenery here is gorgeous and it seems that all of the inhabitants of the island get around via golf-cart and down even own normal cars here on the island. Okay, that's proven incorrect a short time later as I encounter real cars, but only a very few. I do see dozens and dozens of golf-carts though. Some people even have cart-sized garages built into their homes. The giant live oaks dot the grounds of these mansions and old man's beard drape from almost every limb.
The race route follows mostly paved roads, but here are a few sections that are hard-packed ocean sand. I've run on beaches before and found it very difficult, but this is packed densely enough to feel much more like dirt and doesn't really offer any difficulties. Our path follows several interconnected loops in and around the island, exploring much of it. As we move further south, we enter a much less expensive area of run-down homes and trailers. Presumably, these are the descendants of much earlier inhabitants. As I pass the five mile marker, I'm still feeling pretty good and decide to push myself further. I pass the six-mile marker and continue on towards the seven. Shortly before the seven, I'm forced to reduce my pace and even walk a little bit. I'm feeling pretty taxed and my knees are complaining a bit. The pressure supports I'm wearing around my knees seem to help as the pain is not a searing pain as I have experienced before, but it still aches and will force me to slow down the remainder of the race.
As I approach the eastern shore of the island, the paved trail follows a long section of shoreline, complete with millions of oyster and other shellfish remains littering the narrow beach. In the distance, the sun rises high over the eastern horizon. It's quite beautiful and really makes a race like this worth it.
I grab a complimentary beer and lunch packet before finding a table. Setting across from a very nice older woman, we share our aches and pains, but congratulate each other on our accomplishment. She seems extremely nice. As I enjoy my sandwich, several friends congratulate me on social media and express their jealousy of my being able to run a non-virtual race. I hope I followed safety protocols closely enough and didn't endanger myself or anyone else, but it is really, really nice to be able to race again.
No comments:
Post a Comment