It's strange how no matter what, the weather can determine a run. It doesn't matter how fit (or unfit) you are. If the weather is crazy, there is no helping the situation. You are at the weather's mercy. I often think about what is worse-- running in the god-awful heat or running in the assaulting winter? I feel like no matter what, the opposite of whatever the weather I am currently running in is always better. We always want what we can't have.
Today I ran in the first 90 degree day of the year. I felt like saying, "Well, HELLO hot and debilitating summer running. I missed you!" There truly is a major difference between those beautiful 70-80 degree runs and then days like today, where you feel like you are running through Saran Wrap rubbed in butter (gross thought, right?) As I was pushing through the humidity I started thinking about if there was ever a place, where this weather was "perfect for running"? Where, because of my surroundings, the weather didn't matter? It got me thinking about some of my hardest, extreme-weather travel runs and I wanted to share on of my hottest travel runs ever.
(Photo courtesy of Buckland and Taylor Bridge Engineering)
The Cooper River Bridge is pure architectural, mastery. I've never been a scientist or engineer so just imaging how they built it makes my head hurt. The bridge is about 2.5 miles long from end to end and connects the town of Mt. Pleasant with the city of Charleston. It is relatively new (built in 2005) and I have been lucky enough to run on it several times during 2 different trips to Charleston. Out of pure insanity, I choose to go to Charleston in the middle of summer both times, where the temperatures are in the mid 90s and the humidity makes you sweaty just thinking about going outside. It is one places where you run and people just stare at you with a look of pure concern ("Why on earth would someone subject themselves to this weather?") There is one particular run on the Cooper River Bridge that stands out as one of the hottest runs of my life, just one of the most eye opening.
I was staying in Mt. Pleasant and decided to wake up at 6am (it was suppose to peak at 100 degrees by noon) and run about 7 miles round trip (over the bridge and to the Battery in Charleston and back). The Battery is the historic edge of Charleston with beautiful homes and seafront views. Close your eyes and remove the cars and you can picture yourself in another time. I started off my runs like I do most of my runs while traveling-- alone. Once again, whoever I was staying with decided to sleep in and rest up for the day. When ever this happens (which is always), I am never mad at the person-- just saddened that they are missing out.
I started off my run from the hotel and within minutes I was so sweaty, you would have thought I had just run 10 miles. As I turned onto the path to get to the bridge and it struck me early on-- "Damn, this isn't some wimpy bridge. This thing is serious and steep!" It is always in moments like this that I remember that I am, in fact, seriously scared of heights. It is one of those things, I suck up and deal with because being scared of heights is just not a good excuse. As I ran up the ramp, I ran as close to the right as possible so I was far from the edge and even closer to getting run over by the cars. I guess getting run over is a better way to go than falling off a bridge. In all seriousness, there is no way I could really fall off. The bridge is pretty secure, with high barriers. By the time I hit the crest of the bridge, I was breathing hard and was beaten by the heat. I decided that this was a perfect excuse to stop, take in the views, and enjoy it. I was one of only a few runners and the only other life out and about in sleepy Charleston were the fishing boats below setting off for the day. It was one of those moments, no matter how hot I was, that made me happy I had the ability and choice to run.
Soon after, I started on the decent down. These moments always find myself saying "What must comes up, must come down." Without prevail, every hill, every crest, I repeat the same phrase in my head. It always brings me some sort of joy that no matter the pain I'm enduring, the other side will bring some relief. The other side towards Charleston seemed much longer, but since it was downhill I loved it. Once I got into Charleston, I ran through some very poor, predominately African-American areas of Charleston. The great socio-economic divide in places like Charleston still make me sad and shocked. After about .5 mile through the poor parts of town, I came to historic Charleston with the beautiful homes and history. Cobblestone and narrow lanes. It's like Boston in some ways, yet so different in others. Soon, I hit the ocean breeze, the Battery, and my standard internal question of "I wonder what it is like to live here?" I was already 3.5 miles and it felt like I was going to pass out. I ran the same route back and tried to focus on things I hadn't seen before (it is amazing how just running on the opposite side of the street can open your eyes to a different view). This time I noticed all the homelessness and that, once again, made me sad that a city full of tourist dollars still has people without a place to live. It also made me think about how I have the "luxury" to put myself through physical pain by choice and these people are probably in pain daily, but probably not by choice. It also makes me mad that I always just run away and don't do anything.
I started to approach the Charleston-side of the bridge (which was the lovely, long downhill on the first part of my run). Now, it had turned into a relentless and endless cement curve. "What comes up, really must come down!" I hit the crest and stopped again, but not because I was tired this time. My body had adjusted to heat and I was once again in awe of my body and its ability to endure pain and recover. This time I just stared straight down and tried to see if I could see some sea creature. I always try to do this and rarely ever find something. I'm usually too far up or too far away. The only time I ever got really close was in Iceland, where I saw shark close up (amazing!) This time in Charleston, I just stared at the ocean birds swooping down for their breakfast. With that, I decided I needed my breakfast, so I started the steep decent down and towards the hotel. When I finished, I was tired and it was definitely not the fastest run ever. But that wasn't the point. I had journeyed through Charleston and caught it in its rawest form-- before the tourist horse-drawn carriages filled the streets. I saw it as a beautiful city, with a equally troubling present. Beauty and poverty just blocks apart. History's lasting impact, ever present.
No comments:
Post a Comment