It has been almost two weeks since we returned to Highlands, and it has been a bit of an adjustment. I am finding that I still awake at 6:00 a.m. or earlier, while it is still dark. And when I get up during the night it takes me a minute to remember where I am and how to get to the bathroom. Of special concern for we runners (which is the ostensible topic of this blog between all the traveling) is the paucity of running during out travels, almost a month during which we were able to find time to run only twice, a total of three miles. We both resumed running as soon as we returned, though, and Martha ran some intervals this week and said that everything felt fine. She has a short time to ramp up to the big event of the summer, the North Carolina Senior Games.
Readers of this blog may remember that, way back on May 6, Martha qualified for the Games by running a 5-K on the Franklin track and taking first place in her age group. That meant that she could run the same event in the State finals, which were held in Cary this year. I am so glad that she wanted to go on to the next level in a much more competitive field, racing against women in her age group who had qualified from around the State. At the age of 64, she knew she would be at a disadvantage in the 60-64 age group. (As I have discovered myself, only a year or two makes a huge difference in these more advanced age groups.) But she has become a competitive runner who often surprises herself these days.
We were concerned about the heat in Cary, but fortune sometimes smiles upon determined runners, and a weather front brought cooler than expected weather. The race was held on paved trails in Bond Park and was mostly shady, which also helped. We had checked into a nearby motel the day before and had an opportunity to check out the course, although as it turned out on race morning, the route had been changed and was no longer the same as the course map posted on line. The weather was perfect. "I wish I were running, too!" I kept saying.
A timing company was present to manage the chip timing, and the race started on time. Martha got off to a good start, and runners quickly thinned out on the narrow paved trails.
She told me after the race that the course was deceptively difficult, with tree roots making for uneven pavement here and there. And at one point, the volunteer who was supposed to be directing the runners was not at his station, and she ran for several precious seconds in the wrong direction before realizing what had happened and getting back on course.
For my part, I enjoyed chatting with the other men and women who were waiting for their spouses. I walked several laps around the parking lot at the finish and returned when the first few runners began arriving. What a surprise to see Martha's familiar pink singlet coming around the corner, way ahead of schedule! She looked strong, but I could tell that there was not much left in the tank; she had given it her all.
Her finish time was 27:53, faster than we had both expected, and it earned her a second place finish and a silver medal. In reviewing her race book later, she discovered that this was the fastest time she had run since 2012. Not many runners in their 60s can claim an accomplishment like that! Is it possible that, rather than bemoaning the lack of training over the past month, the down time could have been responsible for the faster time?
Races like this are inspiring to an aging runner like me. The men and women walking up to accept their medals at the award ceremony looked very fit indeed, and the loudest applause was reserved for the oldest man finishing the race, who was 93 years old.
Martha had realized when we arranged earlier in the summer to travel to Cary that we would be less than half an hour from Raleigh, where her aunt Lizette lives. For several years, Lizette has graciously allowed us to stay in her condo in Atlantic Beach, less than three hours from Raleigh, during the coldest winter months. It has been a wonderful escape from the cold and the snow, and we have come to love that area of the State a great deal. So she had arranged to stay at Lizette's condo for a week after the race at a time of year when we have never been there before. The grass might actually be green!
So we checked out of our motel and drove to Raleigh, where we had a nice visit with Lizette, who turned 90 in March and does not look it. Two beautiful women!
As it turns out, Lizette's son Artie, Martha's cousin, was going to be visiting the condo the
same weekend, and we were looking forward to the opportunity of seeing
him, too. We had made arrangements to stay at a nearby motel while Artie was at the condo, one that we had often passed while driving down Fort Macon Road, the Caribbe Inn, a name so corny it was cute. The little motel is family operated and has five stars on TripAdvisor, and it was a gem, brightly painted in pinks and turquoises, slightly retro but clean and neat. The owner, Trish, was (as we say in the south) "as friendly as she could be."
The Inn backs up on Money Island Bay and features boat slips; we watched one visitor arrive in a small boat, tie up, and go inside to register.
Out in the parking lot were several big pickup trucks with ice chests on racks behind the tailgates and holders for fishing poles. The next morning we watched two or three of them depart shortly after sunrise for a day of fishing. I sighted this fellow doing the same thing off the dock by the boat slip - a Great Egret.
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