Sunset Mountain in the Fog

Now that we are back in Highlands, there doesn't seem to be as urgent a need to post to this blog on a daily basis as I did when we were in Atlantic Beach.  It has been cold, and it has been wet, but we have found enough windows of opportunity for running, and I realized this week that we are sticking pretty closely to a training plan that I devised when we returned despite the weather.  The Crystal Coast Half was three weeks ago this weekend, and the Flying Pirate Half will be three weeks from now, a week after we arrive in Duck for our annual April vacation.  (We have been going to Duck every April since the year 2001 so I cannot honestly call it a Second Sabbatical.) 

The training plan consists of some long Saturday runs and a general increase in weekly mileage.  Last Saturday we checked off eight miles, and this Saturday ten miles, on mornings that threatened rain but then almost miraculously cleared.  If the day is a good one, we are thinking of running the Black Mountain Greenway 5-K on April 8, a week before the half marathon, as a final tune-up.  So far my knee is holding up pretty well.  And it seems to help my recovery to walk on those days when I am not running.

Sunday I went up to Town and worked out at the gym, then parked in an empty parking lot across from the Nature Center and started up Sunset.  Saturday's rain had come and gone, and by now it was just thick fog, that kind of fog that brightens the higher you climb so that you feel that in only another 500 feet or so you might burst out above it, as I have on a few glorious occasions in my life, into blue sky with the fog spread out below in a sea of clouds.  But I never reached that point on Sunday as I climbed up the familiar road, walking in eerie silence and not passing a single person.

The top was beautifully fogged in!  A few sparse pine trees could be seen at the edge of the rock, less and less visible the farther out they were.  I could hear no traffic whatsoever.  If I had not known that there was a thriving but sleepy little Sunday-afternoon Town down there, I could have been in the middle of a wilderness.

I posted this photo on Facebook with the caption, "Stunning view from the top of Sunset Rocks on Sunday afternoon."  I did not mean it as a wise-crack.  The bright, pure fog was stunning, and I sat on the little bench up there for a good while, enjoying the solitude, the total silence, before coming home.

Return to Winter

We returned to Highlands last Thursday, watching the thermometer steadily drop the last few miles of the journey.  Although there were daffodils, hibiscus, and forsythia blooming in our yard, it was clearly still winter; the branches were bare (as they had not been in Eastern North Carolina) and the grass was just barely green.  Branches littered the yard, and a cold rain was forecast for Saturday morning.  But the rain did not materialize until later in the day and we completed six miles, slowly in my case, and wearing that knee brace.  It was nice to be back home again and to see at least three other runners out on the road in what has apparently been a diminished winter running group.

I remember that when we boarded our cat Coffee for shorter vacations than our Sabbatical, she would immediately upon being released from the car set about visiting every corner of the yard, and then every corner of the house.  And that is what I did on Saturday, circling around Harris Lake, but then running down Spring Street and back up Main Street, seeing all of the familiar places where we like to run, noticing the small changes.  I spotted some gravel in the Wright Square parking lot and at first thought it was broken whelk shells dropped by seagulls.

This morning there was light rain spattering on our windshield, and on the way up the mountain it started making that peculiar transformation to snow, little periods (. . .) turning into asterisks (***) on the glass, and then finally filling the air with wild flurries.  It was not sticking on the road, though, and it diminished throughout the day, and then the sun came out.

This is typical March weather in Highlands; it doesn't know whether it wants to be winter or spring.  But most of us still remember what happened 25 years ago when the "Blizzard of the Century" roared through these mountains on March 13, 1993.  Martha was in Raleigh with our only four-wheel-drive vehicle and I was stranded with a six-year-old daughter, without power for several days, firewood supply dwindling.  For many years after that, we would celebrate this "holiday" by turning off the main breaker on the electrical panel for a little while, scrunching up close in front of the fire, and remembering the sound of the wind howling outside.

A couple of days after the storm, we bought a hand-cranked generator, which we still own to this day and continue to use during power outages.  We are much better prepared in many ways today.  But I was remembering that the winter of 1993 was very similar to this one:  unusually warm in February, and then striking when everybody had been lulled into believing it was Spring.

Winter may still have a scene or two to play, waiting in the wings to make a surprise entrance onto the stage.

Sabbatical Ending

Our Sabbatical here in Atlantic Beach is quickly drawing to a close.  We decided to drive down the coast through Pine Knoll Shores and Emerald Isle, talking about what we have seen and done for the past two months, and looking ahead and planning for the rest of the year.  We decided to eat lunch at one of the places we have enjoyed the most this year, the Salt Water Grill in Swansboro (see post of February 9).

We both ordered the same thing:  She Crab Soup and Shrimp Tacos.  The soup is truly exceptional;  the menu says:  "In memory of Miss Wanda, who handed down her family recipe for she crab soup; her advice: a good stock from crab roe, simmered w/ lump & claw crab meat, sweet cream, & a dash of hot sauce, then finished w/ a creamed sherry & served from the heart."

After lunch we drove out to Hammocks Beach State Park, just outside Swansboro.  Martha had tried to sign up for an "Eco-Tour" to Bear Island from this place a month ago, but the ferry to this uninhabited island, we were told,  holds only six people and was already booked.

It was still windy when we returned, but we bundled up and took a walk on the beach, down to the pier and back.  The ocean had calmed down quite a bit and it was low tide.  Martha suddenly pointed out toward the ocean:  "Dolphins!"  And there it was, leaping out of the water:

I'm not sure if I can explain why such a sight is so satisfying.  Perhaps it is because we seldom see what is below the surface of the ocean, and yet we know that it is teeming with life.  And this dolphin leaping from the water reminds us of another world as it rises and shines a little in the sun and then disappears below the waves again.

Now each wave seems to hold a playful secret,

A dorsal fin appearing here, and there,

Upcurving in the glistening air, like the top

Of a dolphin wheel poking just above the surface

Turning round and round in this sunny realm.

We will miss this beautiful place, and we are thankful to Martha's Aunt Lizette for her generosity in letting us stay here for so long.  We have had time to walk and run, to read and write, to relax and talk together, to gain a new perspective on our lives, and to  think about where we have been and what adventures we will be taking this coming year.  We are looking forward to it all!

Crystal Coast Half Marathon and 10-K

The wind did not die down at all overnight, so we prepared for this morning's race with gloves and long sleeve-shirts.  I wrote up this account for the Highlands Roadrunners Club Newsletter:

March 3 – Crystal Coast Half Marathon & 10-K – Morehead City NC

Martha and I ran this half marathon and 10-K on a chilly and very windy morning, crossing the bridge from Morehead City to Atlantic Beach and then back again.  The sustained wind speed was 30 mph, with gusts up to 40 mph, the toughest winds I have faced in nearly 200 races; at one point, crossing the bridge directly into the headwind, it felt like someone was standing in front of me with a hand pushing on my chest.  This was Martha’s first half marathon in three years and she ran an excellent race, finishing strong in negative splits (except for that #!!*# bridge!) and handily taking the 3^rd place age group award.  Out with an injury, I settled for the 10-K and surprised myself with a 2^nd place.

Richard Betz                1:18:33                        2^nd Place Age Group

Martha Betz                 2:22:15                        3^rd Place Age Group

It was a good morning all around, despite that wind!  I knew I was pushing myself in tackling the 10-K, but I don't think I did any damage despite my legs being awfully beat up.  And it was nice to know that the first place winner in my age group was a spry young 60 years old (10-year age groups).  

But Martha was the real star of the day - what an inspiration!  Despite the wind, she arrived at the finish line sooner than I had expected, running strong, beaming with justifiable pride.

Everybody was talking about that bridge.  Some of us stopped to walk, bending over at the waist to reduce surface area; I have really not ever been in this kind of headwind in a race.  A man at the finish was asking if they had boats in Bogue Sound down below us to rescue those blown off the bridge.

This opinionated little onlooker was waiting for her Mom to finish, I think.  And she did not mind the wind at all.

Now we are enjoying those post-race rituals that most runners do:  writing down our "splits" (the pace we ran each mile) and comparing them, taken off our GPS watches; looking on the internet to confirm our finish times; going through all the photos we took.  It is so much better to share a victory with someone you love!

And now we are preparing to go out to dinner to celebrate - the Island Grill, here in Atlantic Beach, a place that Martha's aunt Lizette told us about that we have not visited this year.  I think I can safely say that we both have healthy appetites.

Race Registration

It is the day before the race and we are both ready.  The weather has changed again, and as predicted yesterday's rain and wind disappeared overnight to be replaced by brilliant blue skies.  The wind speed increased to 25 mph with gusts higher than that, and a gale warning was in effect.  I went out to do my Tai Chi and the wind was so strong that at one point it threw me off balance.  And it was coming straight out of the west:  the ocean looked like a river, hurrying due east, like the Niagara River roaring in its unwavering course towards the Falls.

We drove over to the Bask Hotel after lunch, where race registration was being held, and signed up for the race, that big step from which there is no turning back.  One of the women at the registration table remembered us from last year.  "How long are you staying?" she asked Martha.  "Two months," was the reply, and we explained.  The shirts are nice, and it was a typical low-key registration process.  A paper on the table gave a website which is supposed to give instant results after the race, but when I tried it after we returned to the condo it proved to be not yet operational.

 
I have thought hard about it and decided to run the 10-K, which I believe I can finish in a respectable time with my knee brace strapped in place.  Of course I am disappointed because mentally I am prepared for the half marathon that I trained for.  But it would be truly foolish to attempt a 13.1-mile race on an injury (although I awoke twice last night and actually thought about it).  Martha, on the other hand, will run the half marathon, twice across that bridge, and is primed to run a good race.  My race actually also goes across the bridge twice, so at least I will feel that I am facing the same obstacles that she will face except for the distance.

Then we spent some time afterward driving back and forth on the streets near the Bask Hotel, the first part and the last part of the course, which loops back and forth in different ways for the 5-K, the 10-K, and the half, and I think we have it straight now.  Three races on the same course is a little confusing on the course maps.  I remember that last year there were people at all the intersections, though, so I hope I don't run an extra mile or (worse) miss a mile.

After that, we made another important stop:  to a thrift store in Beaufort where Martha bought two lovely flannel shirts in our size (which as I write have been washed and are in the dryer).  It's going to be 43 degrees in the morning at starting time and the wind will be from the NNW at 23 mph, so these throw-away shirts will be welcome while standing at the starting line; they will be quickly discarded, collected, and probably donated back to the same thrift store again by race volunteers.  I was wearing a shirt like this in a marathon many years ago and I think I actually kept it on for three or four miles!

So now we are resting up, preparing to have the traditional pre-race dinner of pasta and marinara sauce, the same pre-race dinner we have had before our long runs in the past couple of weeks.  It is satisfying to go through these familiar rituals again, these small last-minute preparations that put the cap on the long-term preparations:  laying out our running clothes for the morning, pinning that number on the shirt, tucking energy gel into little pockets, and bringing plenty of warm clothes to change into after the race, when it will feel really cold!