28/50 - Charleston Marathon

Here we are in the dead of a Chicago winter and though it's been more tolerable than previous years, last week brought us our first blast of zero-degree cold. The timing was just right for this weekend's trip to Charleston that our friends, the Grecos, proposed some months back. Three days of culinary delights, good company, Civil War-era history, a blind sub-3-hour marathon, and a beer experience that renewed my faith in an often pompous craft beer scene.

Arriving early Thursday morning, we hit the ground running to the nearest biscuit shop, Callie's Biscuits, for the hottest little biscuits in town. Donuts, you have a worthy adversary in this wonderful amalgamation of flour, butter, cream cheese, and buttermilk leavened with a variety of sweet and savory ingredients. These biscuits are righteous!

Callie's Biscuits in all their righteousness

Few places exemplify prestigious Southern architecture better than the old Charleston neighborhood south of Broad Street. After our biscuits, we set out for a stroll around the streets of Rainbow Row and down Murray Boulevard along Charleston's waterfront. Here you'll find a collection of 18th-century Georgian town homes in a splendor of pastel colors and towering waterfront mansions with grandiose front porches that face Fort Sumter - the site of the beginning of the Civil War.

A sample of homes along Rainbow Row

What old money along Murray Boulevard looks like

After checking into the Jasmine House Inn B&B, we ventured off the peninsula of Charleston and over to Sullivan's Island for dinner at The Obstinate Daughter. The rustic and salvaged decor of the restaurant was a warm and inviting introduction to what will probably stand out as our best meal of the trip - an eclectic selection of New American fare including a pork belly appetizer, beet salad, grilled octopus, trigger fish, red and green tomato pizza, sausage and tomato sauce pasta, and an apple cinnamon bread pudding dessert (neither of the Grecos wanted to even try the bread pudding, thankfully. More for us).

Bill and I got a 2.92-mile run in (because 2016 is the year of not rounding my runs up to whole numbers) Friday morning before the rain came. Then, from the massive second floor porch of the B&B, we sat and watched as the rain flooded the streets before embarking on a trip to the expo, where Bill took the leap and purchased a pair of pink women's shorts. If you read my post about the Hawaii marathon last year, you'll know that only good things happen from a move like that. Another food recommendation led us to Poogan's Porch - recognized as one of the most haunted places in the world - for a pre-race dinner of pan roasted duck breast. Because why not?

When is the last time you ran a race without a watch? I don't mean without GPS; I mean no watch at all. As a pace leader for Chicago, Green Bay, and Quad Cities marathons, I got a kick out of the frightened looks of the runners I was pacing when they realized I was only wearing a stopwatch. Until two years ago, that's all I used. But I don't think I've ever run a marathon without a watch at all... Until this weekend.

Race mornings become more and more relaxed as I progress through this 50-state-marathon goal. I rolled out of bed, had a couple coffees, grabbed some mixed fruit, and took a bite of plain white bread. It would be a beautiful day, sunny and in the 60s. I didn't realize until we arrived at the start line that I left my Garmin on the bathroom counter. Bill and Heidi generously offered their Garmins knowing that I have this sub-3-hour goal but it just didn't bother me. I treated this as a test of what my body, as opposed to my watch, deems comfortable. My only indicators of time were The Wife yelling it to me at two different points along the course and the occasional mile marker using an audible (but not visual) timing system, something I've never experienced before and which made me feel like I was stuck on the Lost island. And though I went out a bit fast, I ultimately met my goal with a total time of 2:55:46 and 14th/1,235 overall.

Bill, Heidi, and me - Heidi didn't get the pink shorts memo

After the post-race beer, shrimp and grits (a meal you cannot avoid in this town), and boiled peanuts, we reconvened at a rooftop bar with another fun couple who are friends with the Grecos, then transferred to 5Church - a new restaurant operating in a really cool old church with the entire Art of War treatise scrolled on its imposingly high ceiling. Great brunch, company, and drinks again before The Wife and I drove to Edmund's Oast with the intent to purchase a few growlers to bring to dinner (oops, they don't sell them). We had heard about their "unforgettable" Peanut Butter & Jelly beer, but we were extremely skeptical that it was a play for attention. Instead, it was everything everyone said it was. Nostalgia meets adult in this very drinkable brown ale. In the overambitious world of beer that's being barrel-aged in this, that, or the other, the PB&J brown ale is refreshingly simple and memorable. If only we had time to eat here; this is surely another great restaurant.

Take me to 5Church!

A PB&J like you've never seen or tasted

We spent our last night in Charleston visiting with The Wife's friends from law school and their four children who recently moved there from Anchorage, AK. Fun kids, good beer, pizza, and conversation; her husband and I reminisced about our former rockstar lives as Chicago musicians in what seems like a lifetime ago... A life before we had kids and before I had this 50-state-marathon goal. Another one in the books, and some memories to last a lifetime.