Recovery

This has to be the most difficult period of time following a marathon.  Nothing hurts, in particular, and some days I feel just great when I run, but when I reach a certain point (three miles on my first day back running), I feel EXACTLY like I did in mile 20 of the marathon.  I hit the wall, hard.  There is nothing left in my account,and I realize that it will take time for it to build up again through the slow process of training, rest, and good nutrition.

Monday I went six miles before beginning to wear out - can I go seven today?

Kiawah Island Marathon and Half-Marathon

Martha and I had a good race at Kiawah Island Golf Resort this weekend.  She ran the Half Marathon and I ran the Marathon.  We thought the course was a little tougher than expected for “flat” and “sea-level” – perhaps it is true that a flat course really does fatigue the muscles more.  But I was happy to run more than 30 minutes faster than my last marathon, and Martha came within seconds of a new PR.  I was 4:23:04, and Martha ran 2:05:53.   Beautiful island, though!  And perhaps the nicest place we have ever stayed – runners rates at the Villas, very nice, high-end condos, convenient shuttle to the start, and the quietest place I think we have ever stayed the night before a race, although of course we got little sleep.  The food was also delicious and plentiful, and the organization was superb. 

I was pleased that one runner at the shuttle pick-up, when I pointed out to Martha that I was the oldest runner on the bus, said I was "experienced," not old.  Another runner made me feel even better during the race by saying I looked "seasoned."  That must have been in the first half!  In the second half I was way over-seasoned!  But now, two days later, my legs are still sort, and I began to wonder this morning, "Is it worth it?  Shouldn't I be old enough to know better than to insult my body this way?"  Four or five months of training, all gone in a single four-hour spending spree, and now I begin all over again.  But our yoga instructor, Rebecca, sent me this timely quote:

“May all of your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view, where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you.” - Edward Abbey     

 

The Perils of Doppler Radar

All of my training for the upcoming Kiawah Island Marathon has gone well, especially the weather.  Rainy days have magically cleared up for an hour or two to allow me to run on dry pavement; I've had cool weather, still days - perfect training.  But this week, the summit of my training, consisting of 50 miles and the final set of Yassos, were a challenge.  The Yassos went well on Tuesday, but Wednesday brought rain in the morning, rain in the early afternoon, and a prediction of worsening rain all day for my six-mile run.  I checked the radar on my favorite weather site, Intellicast, and it showed a window of opportunity within the next hour, so I quickly dressed out and went up to Town.  Light rain turned to heavy rain, then to wind-driven hurricane-like rain.  The windows had disappeared, at least here on the actual ground.  I stopped once or twice to wring out my singlet, and continued, thinking to myself that no training program could be complete without a "character-building" run.

Needless to say, on my shivering drive back down the mountain the rain tapered off, then stopped completely, and as I turned in my driveway the sun peeked out.  It did not rain the rest of the afternoon.  Well, thanks anyway, Intellicast - I needed some character-building.

Flight of the Vampire 5-K

We went to this costume-popular race for the first time this year, and four members placed in their age groups.  But as I said in the monthly newsletter, "the most exciting race was in the female 50-59 age group, where the top three finishers were all less than eight seconds apart; Angela Conner from Tryon had the finishing kick, but Vicki Heller and Martha Betz battled it out right behind her only one second from each other; congratulations to both of the fiery redheads!  They pushed each other into running hard all the way to the finish line."

 Lots of interesting costumes!

And four winners with their medals.

Bethel Half Marathon

October 8 we ran the Bethel Half Marathon and 5-K  This well-established race takes place in the Bethel Community, through gently-rolling countryside east of Waynesville, at the peak of the leaf season, and is always a joy to run.  Five runners from our Club took part in the events this year and all had good races.  Skip Taylor ran the5-K and took second place in his age group.  In the Half Marathon, Martha and I toed the line with Vicki Heller and Jim Askew, and then watched Jim take the lead at the four-mile mark, where he remained until the final two mile when I finally reeled him in, just barely.  This 75-year-old was running his first Half Marathon since 1996 and was in the same age group as I was since for some reason they stopped things at "60 and over."  Knowing Jim, he probably played in a tennis tournament later in the day – what an inspiration to the rest of us!  Vicki and Martha ran great races, too, both setting new PRs and taking 1st and 2nd place.  I was particularly proud of Martha's smart race and even splits; her final mile was as fast as her 3rd or 4th mile.  I did the same, running back-to-back 8:39s on miles 12 and 13, listening to Jim behind me the whole way!  This reminds me of that Half Marathon in Tybee Island a couple of years ago when I found myself catching and passing a 10-year-old girl.  Beating a 10-year-old and a 75-year-old may be hollow victories, but we all just do the best we can and are thankful for crossing the finish line!

Black Bear in his natural habitat, in tree, waiting to pounce on runner.

Running With Bears

E-mail to Local Runners:  Running With Bears.  I have been running for 28 years in Highlands, and can report that I experienced my first up-close encounter with a bear this morning.  I should explain that my training plan called for eight miles of hills today, so I decided to run to the top of Big Bearpen (yes, I realize it is called BEARpen) three times.  Fred Motz (“Give me a witness!”) saw me on three occasions during this run, and no, you can’t put it in your running log if you drive a car, Fred. 

On my second descent, just as I was approaching Betty Wong’s house on the left ((east) side of the road, I saw what looked like a large black dog running along the road and across the entrance to her driveway.  Betty was standing on her porch with a camera and asked me if I had seen the bear  “Yes,” I said.  “Which way did it go?”  I thought I heard it down in the woods below her house, rustling loudly through the rhododendron.  “There it is!” Betty said, but it was not the bear down in the woods, but another bear she was pointing at, walking along the little wall above her house, approaching her driveway, where I was standing.  I backed down the road a little, and the bear ambled out the driveway and stood in the middle of the road, looking at me.  It was the size of a full-grown German Shepherd, but filled out quite a bit, no doubt from dining on bird seed and garbage all year.  I am estimating it was about 15 meters away.  Then it started downhill toward me, so I backed up a little.  “Don’t run,” Betty yelled.  “It might chase you!”  Having already observed a bear running at full speed in Cades Cove the weekend before last, I know positively that I cannot outrun a bear, especially one only 15 meters away.  Ray McPhail might be able to, but then he would only last 100 meters.  I imagined this bear might be trying to decide whether or not I would taste as good as bird seed or garbage.  “The Mama is around here somewhere!” Betty said. 

The Mama?  Was this large animal a mere cub?  A moment or two later, the bear walked down into the woods and out of sight, where apparently its mother and/or sibling had preceded it.  I checked the distance I had run so far on my Garmin and decided this might be a good time to turn around and go uphill for my third ascent, rather than continuing downhill and bear-ward toward Chestnut Street.  As I bid farewell to Betty and passed her driveway, I suddenly heard a loud rustling in the bushes on the upper side of the road and what I can only described as a loud snort/growl like you might hear in a B-movie featuring prehistoric animals.  It was not a friendly sound, and I slowed to a walk, eased on by, and proceeded uphill, looking back over my shoulder the whole time.  I think my heart reached the target zone at about that point.  Fueled by good old adrenaline, my third ascent went faster than I had expected, but as I circled the loop at the top and headed down again, it gradually began to dawn on me that the only way down Big Bearpen, other than trying to locate the fabled Northwest Passage into Highlands Falls Country Club, was to run past the three bears I had just encountered, and particularly the one who had made the prehistoric sound.  I also realized that, although several vehicles had passed me during the past hour, none had gone down the road since I had begun back down.  I thought that perhaps an SUV, or even a white Mercedes convertible, might be a nice escort to have right about now.  As I approached the series of curves above the Wong house – and isn’t it amazing that not once so far have I pointed out that it is on the wong size of the road? – I realized that it might be a good idea to make some noise, so I began hollering out weird things, like “Yee-ha!  Go on, get outta here Bears!  Home Sapiens coming your way!”  I am sure the Police Department laughed off the calls they must have received from Bearpen residents.  Suddenly, I came around a corner, and the Mama Bear was standing in the middle of the road in front of her cubs and only a few feet in front of me, standing up and growling and charging toward me at full speed.  Well, not really, but that’s what I was thinking every time I approached a curve. 

But alas, that is the end of my Bear Report, and I hope you enjoyed reading it.  What a beautiful Fall day! – three times up the mountain, three bears along the way, nine miles in my running log.  And not once did I say “Bear with me.”

Several members of the HRC went to Cades Cove for a wonderful Fall training run.  This used to be an annual event but for one reason or another has not happened since 2008.  Martha and I, Skip Taylor and MaryAnn Sloan, Jim and Mary Jo Askew, Art and Vickie Heller, and Anthony and Sharon Lampros took advantage of a cool, overcast morning and ran, walked, or cycled the 11-mile loop; Anthony, who is training for a marathon, ran the loop twice. 

Along the way, we counted 13 bears, many at close quarters, lots of deer, and of course many turkeys in addition to myself.  This bear ran from under a tree, across a field, and across the road in front of us.  Now I know that I cannot outrun a bear: