Running from Tornadoes and Sipping Hurricanes

Landfall on the West Coast

Well, folks, Hurricane Milton has officially made landfall on the west coast of Florida, and things are getting interesting over here on the east coast. Our retention ponds are overflowing, the wind is howling like a banshee, and I'm pretty sure I just saw a palm tree do a backflip. 🌴🤸‍♀️

The retention ponds are already overflowing!

A Run for My Life (Almost Literally)

For those of you who know me, this will come as no surprise: I just had to get a run in today. Even with a hurricane bearing down on us. (Some people call it dedication; I call it an addiction.) So I took off during a lull in the afternoon rain, thinking I'd be fine. Famous last words.

Feeling all alone in the world....

It started out lovely – breezy, deserted, just a light drizzle. "I got this!" I thought, right up until I hit the two-mile marker and the weather decided to unleash its fury. The rain and wind picked up with a vengeance, and I suddenly found myself in the middle of a mini-hurricane. (Cue the dramatic music.)

The sky was darkening and I suddenly realized that maybe, just maybe, running in the middle of a potential hurricane wasn't my brightest idea. Desperate to get home as quickly as possible, I ventured off the road and onto the beach path. It was shorter, sure, but it was also completely exposed to the elements. As the wind whipped my hair into my face and the rain turned into a horizontal downpour, I started to question the brilliance of this decision. The sky above me cracked and boomed with thunder, each echoing clap seeming to amplify my solitude on that deserted stretch of beach. With every flash of lightning, the churning ocean and ominous storm clouds were illuminated, painting a scene that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Did I mention I was the ONLY person on the beach?

The calm before the storm. Cape Canaveral's usually bustling beach is deserted as Hurricane Milton approaches.

I ran with all my might, but it felt like the wind was pushing me backward. Cue the Chariots of Fire music, because I swear I've never run a slower mile in my life. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, my phone blared a tornado warning – for my location! A tornado here? Seriously?

I hauled butt faster than you can say "There's no place like home," just in time for Ty and I to stand on our deck like tourists, scanning the horizon for a funnel cloud. (Spoiler alert: we didn't see one.)

The Pre-Hurricane Party to End All Parties

After quick showers (in case we lose power and hot water), we decided to brave the elements and head to Sandbar Sports Grill for a pre-hurricane party. Yes, you read that right. A party. To celebrate the arrival of a hurricane. Because Florida.

As we drove, palm fronds were lying in the street and trees were swaying like crazy. Was that a peacock we just saw get tossed across the road? But we pressed on, drawn by the promise of camaraderie, adventure, and maybe a little liquid courage.

And let me tell you, it was the craziest hurricane party EVER. Jelly Roll was blasting through the speakers (we could hear it from the parking lot!), the rain was coming down in sheets, and we had to practically suck it in to squeeze past the tables. Conversations swirled around past hurricanes, close calls, and those irritating Kansas City Chiefs.

When the going gets tough, the tough get partying! This is what community looks like in the face of a hurricane. Cheers to Sandbar Sports Grill for providing the perfect pre-storm gathering spot.

Remember those Floridians I mentioned who laugh in the face of hurricanes? They were all there, packed into Sandbar like sardines, sipping on "hurricanes" and cheering like crazy when a tornado warning flashed on their phones. (Seriously, it was hilarious.) It felt like the whole town had gathered for one last hurrah before hunkering down for the storm. The humidity was high, the beer was flowing, hurricane shots were $1, and the camaraderie was palpable. It was a beautiful moment of community and resilience, a reminder that even in the face of a storm, we can find joy and connection.

Hunkering Down

Eventually, the rain started coming down sideways, and even the die-hard partygoers decided it was time to call it a night. Well maybe not the diehards, but we did. After a mad dash for the car, where we got absolutely drenched in the process, we navigated the flooded streets back to our condo. Even Ty (who normally loves a good puddle-splashing adventure) was starting to get nervous with the amount of water on the street.

Now, we're hunkered down, hurricane shutters are closed, we're listening to the wind howl and hoping for the best. The road out of our complex is already flooded, and we're feeling that eerie calm before the storm. The hurricane is making its way toward us, and we're as ready as we'll ever be.

Even 7-Eleven, normally open 24/7, is closed and boarded up.

Stay tuned for the next thrilling installment of our hurricane adventure! Will we survive? Will the condo survive? More importantly, will the beer survive? Find out tomorrow on... "Adventures in the Sunshine State (where every day is a new challenge)."

Come on Milton... bring it. You got nothing on us, buddy!

Michelle Eidam is an adventure writer with a thirst for adventure – exploring mountains, trails, breweries, and everything in between.