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.