Acupunctured

"We all fared well," I wrote in my blog a little over a week ago, "But Highlands Roadrunner confesses that the twinge in that right knee became worse as eleven miles wore on."  Three days later, I tried running again, and could only go short distances before that same pain returned.  I knew these symptoms well; it was like meeting once again someone you really dislike, a truly disagreeable old acquaintance whose path you had hoped you would not cross again.

I spent a little time looking back through my blog and found that it was three years ago, not two, that I had first injured this knee by building that rock wall and hyper-flexing it.  For a few weeks after that, I had continued running in fits and starts until, in desperation, I had visited Dr. Sue Aery.  She treated the suspected tendon inflammation with deep-tissue massage, ultrasounds, and finally with acupuncture, a procedure about which I had been as skeptical as most westerners.  In traditional Chinese medicine, it is believed that "qi" or "chi" flows through pathways, or meridians, in the human body, accessible through hundreds of acupuncture points.  (My daily practice of Tai Chi for the past twenty years should have made me less skeptical).  Dr. Sue managed to reverse the damage, opening up the knee in some way that I cannot explain (but I am sure she can) to energy and blood flow and healing, empirical enough evidence for me.  Reading the progress of my recovery in my blog in the fall of 2015 made me much more optimistic.

Today I had my second treatment.  It's a little startling to look down and see those needles stuck all around my knee (which looks a little different than this knee I found pictured on the internet).

And today she must have turned the power up a little higher because it made it tingle and jump up and down a bit, like that involuntary patellar reflex from the doctor's little hammer.  Afterward, I went to the gym and lifted weights, and later in the day I walked for a mile in cool, light rain, trying through alternate exercise and difficult conditions to experience in some way that adversity that we runners thrive on when we train.

I had told Dr. Sue earlier, "I haven't run in six days and now I know what inactive people feel like all the time:  lethargic, tired, depressed, wanting to eat too much."  She laughed and nodded knowingly.

One more treatment Thursday and I will try running again.

Return to Highlands

We returned on Sunday, rain increasing steadily throughout the morning.  Highway officials had closed US-441 due to the possibility of rock slides and falling trees as the expected effects of Hurricane Florence neared the mountains.  We had heard that the campgrounds were going to be evacuated, too.  So we had to return through heavy traffic in Sevierville, and then along that winding stretch of I-40 that we do not like to drive in the best of circumstances.  It was raining, and the road was crammed with tractor-trailers and big RVs, the latter apparently unaccustomed to curves and tunnels.  Martha was driving and it was white knuckles all the way until we exited on US-276 and drove through peaceful Jonathan Creek, and then into Waynesville for lunch while light but steady rain was falling.

But then the rain began to dissipate, and finally to clear, as we drove farther west through Sylva and Cashiers and back to Highlands.  The storm had passed to the east of Asheville, and so we had dodged the proverbial bullet.  Our rain gauge showed a mere one-half inch.

But the East Coast took a direct hit, with heavy damage in Duck, in Atlantic Beach and Morehead City, in Swansboro and New Bern - all the little places we love so much and know so well.  We saw pictures of New Bern swamped with ten feet of water, one of their big painted decorative street bears floating past in the flood.  And images of desperate people who had not heeded the evacuation orders stranded on roofs.  The full extent  of the damage won't be known for weeks, but I heard an estimate of $10 billion on the news today.

We count ourselves fortunate that this wandering storm decided to go stay east of us, and slowly make a lumbering path of destruction in Virginia and farther north.  And we dread seeing what we will find when we return to the East Coast this winter.

Cades Cove

Saturday morning brought perfect conditions for Cades Cove - blue skies alternating with light clouds, temperatures in the lower 70s.  We had planned to meet at the Camp Store/Bike Rental center, and when we parked we found two beautiful young bucks standing nearby to greet us.

Bicycles and helmets all sorted out, water and energy gels stuffed into pockets (I told Skip that bears loved the scent of energy gels) and iPhones into armbands, we were ready to go.

I had been looking forward to running in this beautiful place for a long time!  And I was not disappointed.  Fields of new-mown grass, goldenrod; wisps of morning fog rising to the peaks surrounding the wide valley:  absolutely beautiful.

The Methodist Church is the first structure on the loop road, with its beautiful steeple and two front doors, one for men and the other for women.  We have spent time in the past reading gravestone inscriptions in the cemetery out back.

The cantilever barn at the Tipton Place is also well-known.  There are more cantilever barns in this part of Tennessee than any part of the southeast.

The last stop on the loop road is the Carter Shields Cabin, thought to have been built in the 1830s. George Washing "Carter" Shields, a veteran of the Civil War who was crippled in the Battle of Shiloh in April 1862, called the cabin his home from 1910-1921.  I can readily imagine that a veteran of the Civil War might have come to this quiet sanctuary to live out his days in peace.

So it was a good day, with good friends.  We all fared well, but Highlands Roadrunner confesses that the twinge in that right knee became worse as eleven miles wore on.  Martha ran well, as did the others, and she produced a welcome bag of ice which I strapped on the knee almost immediately.  She said they had told her in the Camp Store that they were used to requests for ice.

A convivial lunch for most of us at "Smokin' Joes" barbeque rounded out the morning.  In the afternoon, Martha and I walked down to the Great Smoky Mountains Heritage Center and Historical Museum as clouds began to gather.

In the little village exhibit in the rear we found another cantilever barn, some well-preserved cabins, and a small African American church.

The cross behind  the altar had lovely flowers woven into it, which I thought was fitting for this beautiful area of the Smoky Mountains.

We decided that we had eaten plenty of "smokin' good" barbeque for lunch, so the eight of us who remained gathered around the firepit, sharing cheese and crackers and snacks that each had brought, watching a brilliant sunset that will cast long shadows of wonderful memories.

Elk in the Pastures

Friday morning dawned clear and warm, blue skies with high puffy clouds - it is difficult to believe that a hurricane is even now nearing the coast of North Carolina and headed our way.

We took our time driving to Townsend, stopping in Franklin for lunch, and then going through Cherokee and planning to take scenic US-441 across the mountains.  Just past the Blue Ridge Parkway we were stunned to see the largest herd of elk we had ever seen.  We have seen only one or two solitary elk in the past on this road, and none at all on two trips to Cataloochee Valley where they are supposed to be.  But here, unexpectedly, 15 or 16 of them were grazing calmly out in the big pasture next to the Oconaluftee Village Visitor Center on this side of the Great Smoky Mountains.

A young woman in the Visitor Center was counting heads as I had done. "That's a big chunk of the herd!" she said.  Then, as we were watching, several visitors came running in alarm from the direction of the restrooms, and the big bull elk himself appeared, striding majestically through the midst of us to join his herd.  He definitely owned not only the herd but all of the real estate.

We arrived in Townsend late in the afternoon, texting some of the others on the way.  We had arrange to pasta-load Friday night at Brianna's, a tiny Italian restaurant that had been nice enough to make reservations for us a week ago.  The food turned out to be hearty and delicious, and our waitress Kim was especially nice to us.  An athlete herself - a distance swimmer - she appreciated our need for nutrition and our good spirits the night before.

"This feels like a race," Martha said later as we unpacked our running clothes for an early start in the morning.  "I feel like we should have race numbers."  But it was going to be a fun run and not competitive, some planning to walk three miles or so, some planning to ride bikes, some planning to complete the entire 11-mile loop, and one dedicated marathoner, Anthony (black shirt center) planning on completing two loops in preparation for a marathon a month from now.

Preparing for Florence

Over the course of several days, Hurricane Florence has developed in the Atlantic Ocean, and as of today it appears to be poised to strike the coast of North Carolina.  It looks like it may cause catastrophic flooding along the coast, and the predicted storm track then takes it right across Highlands.

We spent the day e-mailing the other eight friends who are planning to go to Cades Cove, and checking the forecast.  By the end of the day, it looked like the majority of the rain would not arrive until late Sunday or Monday.

We made the preparations we always make for hurricanes and blizzards:  extra bottled water, plenty of ground coffee, and a full can of gasoline for the generator - plan for the worst, hope for the best.

We are planning to leave on Friday morning, not knowing exactly what to expect upon our return. 

Preparing for Cades Cove

I have had another setback in the protracted struggle with my right knee.  Readers of this blog will know that I injured it several years ago not by running but by hyper-flexing it building a stone wall under our back steps.  That's the offending stone, just to the right of the steps:

I was wearing knee pads when I maneuvered that stone into place, but I felt something pull in that knee, and in subsequent weeks I began to feel its effects.  It took several treatments (including acupuncture) from "Dr. Sue," our local chiropractor, to return me to running again.  Since then I have run races, long runs of up to 12 miles, interval workouts, and some 25-mile weeks.  And although I had to cancel the planned half marathon at Morehead City in March, I was able to run the 10-K. 

The tale of my recovery from injury sounds self-indulgent, especially when I realize it could be much worse.  I ran with Morris this morning, who was alternating walking and running following successful knee surgery, and he demonstrated how important a slow, careful recovery is. Martha usually tells me "Don't overdo it!" as I head out the door to go running; I reply, "Yes, but I don't want to under-do it, either!"  It's that fine balance we seek as runners, and in the rest of our lives, too.  But a lesson we all learn as runners is that injury is part of the journey, and we can recover from injury (usually) if we use some common sense and uncharacteristic restraint.

So this week I backed off from the painful eight-mile long run of last Saturday, running only twice, and this morning only six miles, followed by stretching and immediate application of ice.  And everything felt pretty good, after all.  Martha, on the other hand, was able to run eight miles, on-track now for that half marathon in five weeks and, more immediately, that Cades Cove group run that we are looking forward to next Saturday.  Ten of us will be running the loop road, a larger group than usual, and we realized that we have not been there in three years. 

What a beautiful place to run the Cove is!  I am looking forward to this run more than I have any run in a long time - the sweet smell of the open fields, the morning fog slowly lifting, the deer and bear and turkeys.  One way or another, walking or running, I intend to complete the entire loop.