Snow Flurries and Leaf Flurries

It is a Sunday, the last Sunday in October, and day by day Bill Lewis has continued to regain his strength.  Yesterday we visited  him and he was resting, watching a basketball game with his brother; we brought him a print-out of all the comments that have been posted on Facebook and it must surely be an amazing feeling to know that so many in the community care about him and are praying for his full recovery.  If Bill experienced visions of angels in flowing robes or golden cities, he has not said so.  Still, it is not often that a man can be told that, like Lazarus, he has been revived from the dead and has another chance.

If it were me, I think I might find myself sitting for some time in a shaft of sunlight beneath a stained-glass window in some holy place.  Or I might spend many of my days as I did this morning, walking down the road in the late October brilliance, marveling at the chiaroscuro patterns made by swiftly-moving clouds, the leaves golden and brilliant orange, the wind cutting sharp and cold - a harbinger of the season to come.  I noticed that there was a light splatter of moisture on my sunglasses, and as I gazed around I saw with surprise that these were snow flurries - I could see them swirling around, mixed with the falling leaves.  What a joy it was to walk in this flurry of snow and leaves all mixed together!

Acts of kindness are more important than races, but still I feel a little disappointed that I reached a certain relative peak of fitness in mid-October and had to cancel running a half marathon for which I had trained for two months.  But now, here among this season of swift changes, I am determined to begin working toward another goal, and then another.  There is a good half marathon in Morehead City on March 3, and there are some shorter races before then.  It is time to shake off the stiffness in my legs of so many days driving back and forth to the Veterans Hospital and to wake up my legs again.  So yesterday I included some short hill sprints in my run, and in the week ahead I will begin running some tempo miles, climbing those long hills, and building mileage again.

Training never ends; it just needs to be re-focused from time to time.

Bill Lewis Comes Home

I sent this e-mail to family and friends this morning:

"Family & Friends:

We are so happy to report that Bill Lewis came home yesterday!  We had been told by his doctor on Sunday that he might be released by the end of this week, but Tuesday morning we learned that he was indeed being discharged that very day.  We arrived and found him disconnected from all his tubes and wires and things, up and walking, impatient to leave.  He has a long list of medicines that he will be taking, some for the rest of his life.  And he has to go back to the VA hospital often in the coming weeks and months, beginning with an examination by his cardiologist next week.  After all of the paperwork had been completed we got him in the car and started heading back.  He looked out the window and said this was the first time he had been outside in two weeks, and we realized that it had been exactly two weeks since he had been driven here by ambulance in the middle of the night.  He thoroughly enjoyed the trip back home; the first half-hour on the Blue Ridge parkway which has an entrance just down the road from the VA hospital; it is a beautiful drive, and he was just soaking up the blue sky and the fall foliage, glad to be alive and breathing the sweet air!  When we arrived in Highlands, we noticed a large group of people parked at the Community Building, just a couple of blocks from Jane’s house (where he will be staying for now) – a Mama bear and its two clubs were out on the front lawn of Mildred Wilson’s house, and folks were taking pictures on their cell phones:  a welcome home committee!  We are so thankful for all your prayers, and for God’s healing hand which we pray will continue to be on Bill." 

  
That was the second welcome home committee.  As we passed the Whiteside Overlook, we saw two dozen people lined up at the handrail taking photos of the "Shadow of the Bear," which appears this time of year in the valley below. 

Welcome home, Bill!

Bill Lewis (Continued)

Ten days after being admitted to the ICU at the VA hospital, Bill Lewis has been moved to a private room.  Some of the nurses tell us they consider it a miracle.  "The hand of God has been on him," one of them said.  I am not sure how frequently these doctors and nurses, who deal with death and disability and serious illness on a day-to-day basis, are able to say this.  But we are so grateful for their compassionate care. 

Bill is talking, beginning physical therapy, eating regular food.  He still needs to regain his strength, but the progress he has made in the three days since they removed the ventilator tube from his throat has indeed been nothing short of miraculous. 

Thanks to all those who follow this blog from time to time and have been praying for his recovery.  Today we decided that we would remain in Highlands and rest from the many days of travel, which has been especially difficult for Bill's 82-year-old mother.  I have been outside enjoying what the meteorologists called this morning "abundant sunshine" all afternoon, raking abundant leaves in our yard, and giving abundant thanks.

Bill Lewis

In the midst of our busy lives, accidents can happen, hurricanes can sweep across islands, loved ones can suffer accidents and death.  And then the races that we plan to run, however hard we trained for them, suddenly become irrelevant as we must turn to the most important things:  praying for and helping those we love.

Last Tuesday, Martha's 58-year old brother Bill had a sudden heart attack and he was taken to the Charles George VA Medical Center near Asheville.  He went into cardiac arrest, and an excellent team of doctors and nurses, Saints every one, kept him alive, watching over him day and night.  We discovered that this hospital was the No. 1 VA hospital in the nation, and has been for five years, and we have met some of the finest people!  Yesterday, for the first time, Bill opened his eyes, squeezed our hands, tried to talk (he still has a ventilator tube down his throat), nodded his head remembering a story about an old friend, and seemed almost to laugh when I joked that I was gong to have the elevator music in the background changed to Led Zeppelin.  He has been in an induced coma since Tuesday and did not know we were there, but yesterday he did.  And more important, we knew he was there!

So we pray that Bill Lewis will recover, and we climb in the car and drive to the hospital once again to take up vigil and be here for him.  So this race, the focus of my blog for nearly two months, is on the back burner.  There will be other races, but there is only one Bill.

Niggles and Nate

As it turned out, Nate carried several inches of rain but not as much wind as Irma, so our property escaped unscathed, although we understand there were some tornadoes sighted in Tryon and in Rutherford County to the east.  I have always heard from locals that tornadoes do not form above an elevation of 2000 feet, which is probably inaccurate but is one of those things I choose to believe anyway.  My mother-in-law says her mother remembered a possible tornado in Highlands when she was 20 years old, in 1918; trees near the cemetery were twisted and flattened like matchsticks.  Once in 100 years:  pretty good odds.

On Monday morning I drove to Town, and the only evidence of Nate's passing through was a light scattering of leaves and pine needles on the road.  Thick, warm, humid fog disappeared as I drove higher and higher until I saw a remarkable swath of blue sky, and then sunshine slanting through the trees above Satulah.  Conditions felt like Florida, though, so humid that I was drenched with sweat in no time here in the second week of October.

This is the final week before my half marathon, so I am tapering, that time in training when a runner can feel as if he is walking a fine line between pushing too hard and becoming stale.  This is also a time when I always experience what marathoner runners refer to as "niggles," anxious little aches and pains that crop up unexpectedly.  Despite all my 12-milers and interval sessions, now that I am running only short and easy miles that old stiffness in the right lower leg and knee has returned; this morning I felt as if I was falling apart, almost limping as I descended the stairs.  I have learned, though, that this will very likely disappear on Saturday morning when I begin running. 

So in this final week, I recognize a familiar road, a place I have run before.

Hunkering Down Again

I think it is no accident that there are so many hurricanes this year and they are so much stronger than they have been.  How can anyone at this point deny that the global climate is changing?  Almost all of the island of Puerto Rico is still without power after two weeks, and South Florida and Texas will be recovering for months.  Now we are hunkering down for the newest assault, Tropical Storm Nate.

I stepped onto the back porch this morning and discovered that it was 67 degrees, here in October when we normally have had several frosts so far; that fine hurricane rain had begun to arrive, blowing in from the east in waves, one moment nearly stopping and the next soaking a person in seconds.  We had looked ahead and cancelled our annual Highlands Roadrunners Club drop-in party scheduled for 5:00 tonight and it is now evident that it was a good call, with heavy rain and strong winds expected to begin at 4:00 p.m.  

So we are going through the same routine we went through four weeks ago when Irma was hitting us:  gas for the generator, check; drinking water on the shelf, check; Mini parked safely undercover in Town, check.

Yesterday morning, light drizzle coming down earlier, I drove to Town and was surprised to find no runners gathered at the Park.  The drizzle had stopped completely, and at the last minute a visiting runner showed up, staying at Old Edwards Inn for a weekend wedding.  It is always nice to meet new runners and this young woman was a delight, interested in the Town, talking about her upcoming trail marathon in Utah and my half marathon next Saturday.  We ran three miles together and then, expressing a desire to run on unpaved roads and do some hills, I sent her up Big Bearpen, which had both.

 "I'm tempted to go up there with you, but I go by that old dictum:  there is nothing you can do to improve your race now, but there is a lot you can do to screw it up."  She had heard that and agreed with it.  "You may be sorry when you're halfway up," I warned her.  She did not seem to be daunted, and I expect she picked up the pace as soon as we separated.

But it was a good, final "long" run of six miles for me, with a quarter-mile pick-up thrown in to remind myself of race pace.  It began drizzling again on my final mile, but surprisingly the rain had stopped by afternoon and the sun came out for a little while.

So:  a rainy Sunday, waiting for the wind to pick up and the power to flicker, hoping for the best.