Last year our city started an annual 5K on Martin Luther King Day, and cleverly combined it into the acronym ML5K. The race is a fundraiser for Extra Special People called Dream to be Able. So, the twenty bucks to cover registration goes to a great cause.
I am not a runner. I am a 5K "turtle" - I walk the majority of the route at a steady pace, occasionally breaking into a jog during downhill portions. That's okay - 5K walk/runs are becoming more and more common, and the goal isn't to always be first, but to finish and try to beat your personal best time.
The race starts and ends at the iconic Weaver D's restaurant. The route loops through the riverside park and of course along Athens' Martin Luther King Jr Blvd, which runs alongside the river through the historically Black section of town, East Athens.
It was cold today, and this race was listed as part of the Black Bag series and the Tour Georgia Grand Prix, so runners have come out of the woodwork - to challenge themselves and each other, and to have a great race.
I stretched carefully, holding onto a recently planted tree. Weaver D's is no longer white cinderblock as it was for decades - the area along East Broad has been revitalized due to the park, and he painted it in bright green and purple. There is a newly built bridge across the river, and this tree is an artifact of the landscaping done as part of the improvements a few years back.
There is, however, a somber mood. The area is slated for redevelopment. Many of the ruins along East Broad, as well as the buildings deemed to have no historic value, are likely to be torn down and replaced with yet another Big Box Retailer. The citizens of Athens are fighting desperately to make sure that retailer isn't a Wal-Mart,which is anathema to everything our little town stands for. Weaver Ds is not one of those slated to go - the lot is much too close to the river. It was grandfathered in, but any new buildings cannot violate the 25 foot stream buffer. But a block up the hill to downtown, Jittery Joe's Roasting Company will be torn down. We know that this is likely the last time we'll see this area with its present character. Gentrification can be cruel.
As I'm giving my quadriceps a good stretch, a toddler comes along and tries to imitate me by climbing the tree. Unfortunately, it's not much more than a sapling, and his mother has to come along and stop him before he breaks off a limb.
Another mother is coaching her little girl on the difference between a 1 mile run and a 5K - since you have three times as far to go, you don't go as fast. You start out more slowly and make sure you keep enough energy for the entire route.
I was number 4. My husband, the real runner of the family, is number 3. My number was pinned to the front of my yoga hoodie. Around me, there are runners in various types of dress - some in cool weather gear like me, other polar bears wearing short shorts for the freedom of the run. They'll be hot a few minutes into the route.
The crowd mills at the starting line. I cannot hear the bullhorn, but that doesn't matter, because I know to go when everyone else starts.
I go at a brisk pace, but not a really fast one. The scenery is lovely - the first part of the route is along the high bank, and the river winds its way below us. The sidewalk has rails to prevent any unfortunate accidents.
The crowd quickly leaves me behind. During this part of the walk, I am passed by a member of Extra Special People who is pacing the walkers in his electric wheelchair, an older lesbian couple holding hands, a grandmother who is larger than I am, a man walking with a big black dog, and a guy on a unicycle. Keeping pace with me for the moment are small clumps of people my age and fitness range - that is to say, not very fit compared to those who have run ahead.
After the first leg of the course by the river, we briefly enter a residential area. The race staff has hired the local police to close down roads, a common occurrence in this runner's and biker's town. We head down a short, steep slope to the river, and with a sharp left hairpin turn, enter the Greenway Park proper.
This area of town was part of what spurred the revitalization - a long, two mile park alongside the river. The sidewalk is new.
Along here, I begin to pass a few of those walkers who at first outpaced me. The man with the black dog has to stop and let his dog do his business. The elderly couple holding hands had to stop and take a breather. Still in front of me are the grandmother, the boy in the electric wheelchair, and the man on the unicycle.
At the end of the sidewalk in the park is the halfway point, roughly - 1.5 miles. I continue on, stepping in time to Trance Around the World with Above and Beyond. I've paced myself well so far, and on this flat area I'm getting my second wind.
About this time a young girl volunteer and her younger sister have fallen behind. I think the little one is getting tired. They remain just in front of me until almost the end.
Up the hill out of the river flats, and we're on Martin Luther King Jr Blvd for the rest of the race. The park switches to the other side of the river, the way we came, for the next block. There is no sidewalk on the side of the road nearest the river, and they can't put one in as this is within the stream buffer, right on the riverbank. Most of the cottages and shacks are long since gone. Across the street, new developments, done in eclectic, quirky, and fun styles, have gone up to replace those homes lost due to flooding. However, three small shacks still stand, and they are some of the funkiest I've seen - connected by porches and bridges, the complex sprawls over half an acre and two stores, with random hidden paths and doors into the depths. A hand painted sign says "Dashelle's Cottage." Modern building codes would call the dilapidated shanties unlivable, but whoever lives there loves their home and has probably resisted getting relocated by calling it a work of art.
Along the place where the park begins again on the next block, a handful of volunteers make a hand bridge for the stragglers to run or walk under, cheering us on.
The final leg of this peaceful walk is back across the river, back to Weaver D's. My clocked time is fifty seven minutes and one second; not my record, but also not bad considering I'm coming out of a nasty bout with bacterial pharyngitis and did not have time to train.
I finished the race, in under and hour, and I wasn't last.
My husband was sad because he was fourth in his age range, even though this was his personal best time. All the "real" runners came to down for this race. Last year he had come in second and won a nice plaque, made with macaroni by the kids from Extra Special People.
We had paid the extra five dollars for a dinner at Weaver D's, and walked into the small green building. The interior is decorated with three themes: That of Dexter Weaver himself, a fairly famous soul food chef in his own right, that of R.E.M. the band, who loved Weaver D's so much they named an album for him (Automatic for the People), and that of Obama. It is a veritable Obama shrine. The latest addition is, of course, a proud Obama 2012 sticker
"I have fried chicken and pork chops," Weaver D calls out in his sonorous voice. The setup for runners is buffet style, however, and we grab some of the most tenderly baked soul food in America and pile our plates high.
I think the run today was a fantastic way to celebrate Dr. King's legacy. We raised several thousand dollars for a charity whose goal is inclusiveness of all children, regardless of color or ability. We got some exercise in, taking care of ourselves to help keep the burden on the next generation a little lower. And we enjoyed a beautiful run through a revitalized area of town that so loved Dr. King they voted to name their street after him many years ago.
Now I'm home and I'm stiff and sore and that cornbread biscuit and sweet potato casserole is but a memory in my stomach. But every day, I'll try to do a little something to help out my fellow human beings in reaching the Dream.