The Flight of the Vampire

The Flight of the Vampire 5-K has been held in Brevard for many, many years, and the course has apparently changed every year.  Martha ran it several years ago just a couple of weeks before I was scheduled to run a marathon, so I sat it out and took photos.  Our friends Skip and Morris and Vicki also ran that year, and it started and finished downtown just below East Main Street.  I found a course map from last year which looked like the same course we had completed at the Firecracker 5-K in 2019, except that the start/finish was at the new Depot building on Railroad Avenue.

Rain was in the forecast but never materialized, so conditions were perfect for running, overcast and cool.  I had decided to wear my 2011 Boston Marathon shirt – why keep it hidden in the drawer?  We arrived a couple of hours early to pick up our race packets and drive the course, and we discovered that Halloweenfest was going on and most of the roads downtown were closed.  Costumed children were trick-or-treating as we made our way around the event and drove most of what we expected the course to be, always a helpful thing to do if possible.  We both remembered the long, steep hill up Tinsley Road halfway through the course, where there was a pasture below the road with cows grazing.  It was surprising how close this bucolic setting was to Main Street in a city the size of Brevard.

We parked at the Depot Railroad Avenue Park, a new facility constructed last year and used for many local events, including this one.  It was nicely situated at the end of the Greenway, which now extends several miles to the Davidson River, and it had clean, warm restrooms, always a welcome feature at a race.

We picked up our packets and wandered about for awhile looking at the costumes of the 150 or so participants who were vying for the Best Costume contest.  There were Cruellas and skeletons, a young man wearing a pink sailor’s uniform, and even a large white chicken.  We wondered how long some of these costumes would last going up Tinsley Road.

We lined up, not where the course map I had found indicated but on the Greenway itself, a little concerned at the close quarters with Covid still in our midst.

The man in front of me had a cap with a little propeller on top, and off to my right was a vampire with her bat wings floating out behind her.  After a soulful recording of the National Anthem was played, we were off, quickly winding our way past the walkers and young children who for some reason always line up in the front of some of these smaller races.  In no time, we were heading south on Railroad Avenue on a completely different course than we had driven, climbing a hill where we lost some of the walkers and children, circling over to West Main Street, down a steep hill, and finally making our way to the familiar Tinsley Road hill, the only feature of the course that had not changed.  I chatted with a husband and wife pushing a stroller for awhile, whose toddler passenger insisted on climbing out from time to time, then climbing back in again.  “Are you going to ride for awhile?” the mother asked.  “Daddy run!” the child shouted in glee, and Daddy did.  “Is that a motorized stroller?” I asked her suspiciously.  She laughed.  “No, but that’s an idea for next year!”

I felt strong, and apparently Martha did, too, because she was nowhere in sight as we climbed up that long hill, passing younger runners who had stopped to walk (always a treat these days for this old guy!), and then the fragrance of cow manure as a half-dozen of the cud-chewing creatures calmly watched us climbing toward them, and then circling around a small summit.  The view was glorious from up there, purple mountains off to the south, pops of brilliant foliage here and there along the way, and I felt suddenly elated, glad to be running on this fine afternoon in good company, with costumed runners and leashed dogs and children in strollers.  And to be going downhill at last!

It was a gentle descent, and then we were on the Greenway for the last quarter mile or so, wide and smoothly paved.  Comparing notes after the race, we both put the hammer down at that point, and our final mile was the fastest one as a result.  An announcer saw me coming and said, “That’s a Boston Marathon shirt, by the way, folks.  I think I’ve got one just like it,” which made me kick just a little harder the last few yards. 

We wandered around for awhile, cooling down and watching other runners crossing the line.  Unfortunately, there was no food or water for many runners.  Martha said she had grabbed the last water and had asked where the food was, and an official had told her, “We thought most of the runners would eat before they came.”  You can’t always expect these small races to have the same quantity of finish line food and drink we had found two weeks ago at the Walhalla Oktoberfest 5-K, but you would think Brevard’s Rotary could have sprung for a few more bottles of water.  (We later received an e-mail apologizing for the lack of water, which had been taken to the Mile Two water stop and remained there unbeknownst to the Race Director.)

A woman approached me and said she had been following me going up Tinsley Road hill.  “You were my inspiration,” she said.  “I thought, if you’re not going to stop, I’m not going to stop either!”  I thanked her and told her she had done a good job, too.  Just then, there were some cheers and applause, and that big white chicken came across the finish line, apparently having run the entire race inside that costume.

It had been another good day, and we talked about the race on our way home, stopping to pick up a pre-ordered pizza at Four65 Woodfire Pizza in Highlands.  The results were up by then, and we found that I had taken first place in my age group.  But Martha could not find herself in her age group. “They dropped me!” she said, before realizing she had been bumped up to “Top Senior Female Finisher.”  And best of all, we both beat that silly chicken.