Oktoberfest

Oktoberfest in Walhalla, South Carolina, has been taking place for a number of years.  There is even a website that describes in detail the Oktoberfestivities:

"Oktoberfest is a wonderful fall celebration of Walhalla's German heritage with something fun for everyone! Each year, thousands of people come to Walhalla to experience Oktoberfest!  Listen to the Little German Band while munching on a bratwurst with kraut. Enjoy a refreshing mug of cold German beer. Reunite with old friends. Join the dance floor for the always fun "chicken dance". Explore our amazing arts & crafts with vendors from all over the Southeast. And don't forget an apple dumpling for dessert!  The kids will love our carnival rides and games as well as a delicious funnel cake!  There's truly something for everyone at the Walhalla Oktoberfest!"

Nowhere on the “something fun for everyone” website is a race mentioned, although there has been a 5-K held every year for nearly as long as the Fest itself.  It is organized by the Rotary Clubs of Oconee County and seems to share the same date as the main event at Sertoma Field, a little over a mile away, but none of the other activities outlined above, unless this aging runner’s form has started to resemble a “chicken dance.”  The mug of cold German beer would have been welcome after the event, but alas was nowhere in evidence at the finish line.

It was a good race, though, and not only because the conditions were completely the opposite of those in our last race.  We encountered a few light showers on the 40-minute drive down Highway 28, the beginning of a cold front making its way eastward through our part of the country.  By the time we arrived, the rain had disappeared, leaving a sweet fragrance on the quiet streets and lawns of Walhalla.  There was bright blue sky overhead and a light breeze had dissipated the humidity – perfect conditions.  We had driven the course a week ago and knew pretty much what to expect, including a challenging hill at the 2.5-mile point. 

The race was well-organized, too, by a group of friendly Rotarian volunteers, and had all the hallmarks of the kind of event we like:  a USATF certified course, five-year age groups, relatively smooth paved roads through interesting neighborhoods, good traffic control by local police, and plenty of food and drink at the finish line.  We warmed up briefly and made our way to the start, where we heard a nice prayer by a local pastor and then pledged allegiance to the flag in front of the Oconee County Courthouse.  Miss Oktoberfest, a pretty young local girl, was there in her sash and crown, and she started us off down Main Street.  A person dressed in some ape-like costume, possibly Bigfoot, was also there at the start, but I don’t think he ran the entire way.

I watched Martha disappear ahead of me, and then shouted out support for her a mile later when she had circled a traffic barrel and returned on the other side of the road.  I ran for awhile with a man and his 10-year-old son, his first race, and chatted some with them.  It was nice to hear a Dad counseling and encouraging his son.  “Now don’t go too fast, we’ve got a little ways to go still.  We’ll take a walking break at that water station when we come back.”  They eventually disappeared ahead of me as Martha had, so his counsel must have been effective. 

I had fun during the race, as I usually do, asking volunteers at the water station if there was anyone behind me, or asking it there would be beer at the finish line.  It lifts everyone’s spirit, including my own, and makes us all run just a little faster to spread some laughter along the way.  I once ran a marathon – at Tybee Island, Georgia, I think – where I kept asking volunteers at mile markers along the way, “Mile ten!  I thought this was a 5-K!” It earned me the nickname “The 5-K Man,” I learned at the end of the race.  As we turned the corner at the beginning of the steep hill at the 2.5-mile mark, I made a police officer laugh by saying, “Hills!  It’s about time!  Now I can put the hammer down!”

It was a downhill finish and Martha was waiting for me at the finish line.  While we were waiting for the awards, I enjoyed watching slower runners (there are fewer of these in every race these days!) cross the finish line.  When we had turned around the traffic barrel on Main Street, I had noticed one very obese man who was right in front of the ambulance taking up the rear, walking steadily along, and now I saw him coming into the finish, running just a little down the hill.  “Let’s give this guy a cheer, guys,” I said to some others standing around, and he got a big round of applause and shouts of “Good job!”  A woman told me, “Thanks for reminding us to do that,” and I replied, “It’s easy for some of these thin 15-year-old cross-country boys, but it took a lot of courage for a guy like him.”  I used to be especially moved at marathons to watch those slower runners finishing, some of them so exhausted they could barely lift their feet, often breaking into tears.  They had to dig so much deeper than the fast runners.

Martha ended up finishing in 32:30 and taking first place in her age group.  It was a special milestone for her:  this was her hundredth race.  And if I am not mistaken this was her fourth first-place finish in the past four races.  I was second in my age group in a time of 37:35, my fastest time since we began running these races every couple of weeks since our hiatus of a year and a half.  Whether it was because of the better conditions and smoother course or not is something I will discover in our next race two weeks from now.

By the time we left Walhalla, the wind had begun to pick up.  We drove on country roads to the Chattooga Belle Farm, site of our race back on September 26 (see post of October 3), for lunch.  The parking lot was surprisingly full of cars for a Saturday morning just a little after 11:15, and we discovered that preparations were underway for a wedding that afternoon - big round tables with flower arrangements, and about fifty folding chairs set up.  The wind was really blowing by then, and we found a table that was in full sunshine but partially sheltered, though not sheltered enough to prevent the occasional tortilla chip from blowing wildly off our plates.

It suddenly seemed like Oktober!