Out of the Blue

I have to say I was proud of Martha for instantly agreeing, even urging, that we run a race, especially since she had not run for many weeks.  I reminded her that a 5-K race might not be the best way to begin a Spring running program, expected her to run/walk the race, but knew in my heart that she would run it.  The only other person I knew who had run a race out of the blue was Fred, who once showed up in Indianapolis for a conference of some sort, found out about a half-marathon the next morning, and proceeded to run it.

Friday night's scheduled "Boogie on Broad" had been cancelled due to tornado warnings, and there was indeed a wild storm all night long.  I dreamed that the roof had blown off some dream-like building that I was in, and neither of us slept well as we listened to the wind and rain howl outside.  In the morning we discovered that a small tornado had indeed touched down a mere six or seven blocks from the Parsonage Inn, twisting several trees around and blowing off at least one roof:

The damage was actually right on the race course, but I did not see it at all.  I was instead looking at the cannons pointing out to the sound, and joking with a small cluster of people standing along the road (perhaps the owners of the damaged house) - "Hey," I shouted, "Is there anyone behind me?"  They laughed and said there was, and that was about the point where a guy who looked like he might be in my age group came alongside me and passed me by.  I hung on right behind him for the next two miles, and a younger man also, wondering the whole time, Do I still have it in me?  Do I have the competitive will to dust this old guy?  By that time we had left the younger man behind, and we turned a corner where there was a slight hill, less than half a mile from the finish.  And that's when I remembered that I was a runner of mountain and hills, and I licked by him.  "Nice job," he said, and then I ran as hard as I could and did not relent.  I was surprised to find myself finishing in 27:52, and in just a few short minutes, here came Martha, running hard (of course), and crossing the finish line in 32:56.  A good morning indeed!

We walked back to The Parsonage Inn and had the best portabello-mushroom souffle I think I have ever had, served outside in the little garden area by the competent and friendly Terric - far better post-race food than the usual banana and water.  After breakfast we walked back to the finish line area (five blocks away), just in time to learn that I had taken first place in my age group and Martha second in hers.  This was a real accomplishment for Martha, who has not run more than a mile or two all year, and she was also the oldest in her 10-year age group.

Onward to the Outer Banks, filled with a sense of accomplishment and pride.  We arrived late in the afternoon, more tired than we had expected, but exhilarated to finally arrive to the sight and sound of the ocean outside our little rental house.