BURGER COLUMN: Inside the belly of the beast

MOUNT PLEASANT -- Coleman Boulevard was quiet at 5 a.m. But it was the calm before the storm.

First there were police cars whizzing past, blue lights flashing, as they positioned personnel for the influx of some 40,000 runners and walkers for the 34th annual Cooper River Bridge Run.

Then came the volunteers, appearing in the darkness, more than 300 who would corral the runners at the start of the 6.2-mile race.

But this was only a portion of the 3,500 it took to make this entire extravaganza possible.

I was one of them, holding a yellow rope at the starting line. Over the last few years I've volunteered to pick up trash in Marion Square after the race and pass out water to the runners as they come off the bridge and head for the home stretch.

As a resident, it's one of those things that just feels right to do.

But as a writer, it's the best way to get inside the belly of the beast, feel it, hear it, taste it and watch as it washes over you.

Staggered starts

From a logistical standpoint, this race is one of the most amazing feats one can witness.

To bring this many people into a confined area, instruct them on where to go, keep them entertained for an hour or two, provide facilities and stagger their starts to prevent a herd mentality, is nothing short of miraculous.

And yet, those who have done it 33 years prior have it down to a science, decreasing the learning curve with each effort.

This was, for instance, the first year officials instituted the wave start, with runners segregated by ability, each group consisting of a few thousand, starting three minutes apart.

This not only eliminated the inevitable pushing and shoving that comes with trying to move all racers ahead on a single start, it gives each group their own countdown, enhancing the individual experience, even for the casual runners and walkers in the last wave.

Steely-eyed

Up front, however, I was able to stand toe-to-toe with Kenyans and Ethiopians.

These elite professionals almost always win the race, but few locals ever get to see them. This time, however, I learned some of their tricks.

For one thing, while everybody else stands around in the chill of the pre-dawn morning, they rest comfortably in a warm bus and don't appear until a few minutes before the race begins.

Slim and steely-eyed, they step to the line with a look of determination far removed from the happy-go-lucky attitude of the mass of humanity behind them.

As the clock ticked down, the tension increased, and at the last second we stepped aside, removing the yellow rope that stood between them and the bridge, and the race that has become a Lowcountry tradition was officially, and finally, underway.

Reach Ken Burger at kburger@postandcourier.com or 937-5598 or follow him on Twitter at www.twitter.com/Ken_Burger.