Three or four years ago, I could barely handle an hour of physical activity. My foot, coming off five surgeries, was a painful reminder at every step. I was scared of encouraging more bone spurs and neuromas. Every twinge of pain made me think I was bringing on my next surgery.
Today, I cleared the 10,000 step mark around 2 PM.
In all honesty, we did drive to Hominy Grill - they open at 9 and people start lining up at 8:30. Knowing it would be a long day, we were told to drive there and big shocker - parking was free.
Breakfast was delicious and Luke's shrimp and grits made him a happy camper. Me, less adventurous, well...I loved the jam and biscuits.
Our tour was at 11 and we had plenty of time to return to the hotel and walk around Tradd St. The homes are lovely and later we were told that many people hold these as trophy homes. I felt a sense of emptiness. (Trust me, when you've door-knocked, you have a sense for no one at home.)
At 11, we met up with our tour guide, Ed Macy. We'd heard great things and we were not disappointed. He interacted with Lil and balanced being funny with being serious. He told us about a time he'd heard a tour guide in the 1970s discuss how "slaves were part of the family." That has continued to bother him and I appreciated that he recognized his neighbors' myths at an early age.
After the tour, we walked several blocks to the ferry for Ft. Sumter. It was such a gorgeous day. I was wearing shorts and people were shedding their coats & scarves like they had dressed for a Maryland November day. 70s in Charleston. Barely a cloud in the sky.
Dinner was at Cru Cafe - we had gotten seats at the chef's table. Luke had a scallop appetizer with shrimp in a tomato-based broth. I had a pork tenderloin that was so tender. But more importantly, we struck up a conversation with a neighbor who was dining alone.
As we walked back, I saw a cab slowing down by us. Like we looked like tired tourists.
But we weren't. Instead, we were looking at the architecture, the single houses, the "doors" and the church steeples. I was enjoying a walk that five years ago seemed impossible.