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.