Beach Run

A few hundred of us showed up for today’s “Turtle Trot” 5K race for the Marine Science Center here on Tybee. It’s the first time that I’ve officially registered and participated. A friend asked me to do it then Kristen and her boyfriend Sterling wanted in so it became a family affair.

I’d run by it for the past several years but had never got around to actually registering. Truth be told, I wouldn’t have this year either were it not for the specific invitation. Kristen and Sterling arrived at the Pier first and registered for us.

We arrived and got ready.

Sterling has this thing about wanting to compete with me on anything. We shot pool together Friday night and he’s a real trash talker. For the race he said, “I’ll be waiting on you at the finish line, sitting in a beach chair and having a beer.”

“Uh-huh” I say.

“By the time you cross the finish line I’ll probably have killed a six-pack.”

“Uh-huh,” is my witty reply.

It is a glorious day on Tybee Island. The sun is bright, the sea is calm and there are no clouds in the sky. It’s a day that has “beach” written all over it!

I don’t recognize most of the people in the crowd. They all seem to be from somewhere else. A handful are friends from Tybee. It’s a funny collection of serious runners dressed in spandex, compression socks up to their knees, special caps and sunglasses. Then there’s the rest of us.

I have on a “St. Marteen Drinking Team” tee shirt, black shorts and shoes off of the sales rack.

Kristen has lost her mind and is wearing sweat pants. By far my most independent child, she’s always done things her own way and I never give it much thought anymore.

The thing about trying to organize a serious run on the beach is … you’re on the beach. Only the ones in Spandex and compression socks seem to be unaware of this. They stretch and run in place.

I’m looking at girls in bikinis.

Bob Marley is blasting from my I-Pop. “Livy yourself up,” he sings, “nobody will do it for you.”

People start running pass me and I surmise that the race has started. So we run.

There are maybe 300 of us including a midget who is serious runner. And she could fly! It was fascinating watching her dart through the people of all shapes and sizes moving at various speeds. She kept checking her running watch as she did so. The woman is a runner!

After about a mile I’m sliding into a zone. Bob is now telling me to “Stir it up.” My pace quickens as the sweat comes. I stay with my friend and try not to run into people as I keep looking at the sunlight dancing like diamonds on the ocean. A giant cargo ship is on the horizon. Dolphins swim to the side of us running. Cannonball jellyfish litter the beach.

I think about picking one up and throwing it at Sterling as he runs passes me but think better of it. Most people don’t know that these are the only jellyfish that don’t sting and I could start a riot.

In the middle of the race my friend has to pee. I run faster. This could be uglier than me throwing a jellyfish. The wind is in our face so if she pees while running the people behind her could get sprayed.

I don’t want anything to with this. I decide to catch up with Sterling and kick it up a notch.

Bob’s now telling me “No Woman, No Cry.”

“Tell me about it,” I tell him back.

As I cross the finish line a few short steps behind Sterling, Bob is saying “Everything’s gonna be alright! Everything’s gonna be alright! Everything’s gonna be alright! Everything’s gonna be alright!”

Sterling high-fives me and I tell Bob.

“It already is.”

Then I turn around to see what damage my friend has done.