Ten Miles

The week went by quickly here at the beach.  Tuesday, I ran three miles early and then we drove to New Bern, an hour away, for lunch at Morgan's Tavern.  Wednesday morning, I heard bagpipes playing again and saw our piper standing out on the beach.  He was attracting more interest by morning light than he had in the dark, and shell-gatherers and dog-walkers stopped to listen as he went through his repertoire.

For lunch, we attended a "Brown Bag Gam" at the N. C. Maritime Museum in Beaufort.  We have attended these programs in past years (in fact, we are members of both Fort Macon and the Maritime Museum).  Interested visitors pack a brown bag lunch (or pick up some take-out) and listen to a maritime-themed presentation by one of the curators.  A "gam," by the way, is "a social visit or friendly interchange, especially between whalers or other seafarers.  Today's program was about Lightships and Light Towers (as opposed to lighthouses constructed on the shore) and we found it interesting as usual.

After lunch we walked around Beaufort, one of our favorite places.  It was named by Travel and Leisure as “America's Favorite Town,” and its laid-back charm is infectious.  It is easy to find a shady bench down on Taylor's Creek and simply watch the boats come and go.

Thursday, after another three-mile run, we took a ferry from Beaufort to a destination we had never visited before, Sand Dollar Island, out in the Sound between Rachel Carson Reserve and Shackleford Banks.
 

We were surprised to find that the “island” seemed to be little more than an exposed shoal of sand, and indeed our ferry captain said that during the winter, it is often submerged at high tide.  There were no trees or vegetation of any kind, just a few shells and plenty of sand dollars.  It was a true “desert island,” and I found myself thinking of that Laurie Anderson song, Blue Lagoon:

I've been getting lots of sun.

And lots of rest. 

It's really hot.
Days, I dive by the wreck.

Nights, I swim in the blue lagoon.
Always used to wonder who I'd bring to a desert island.

The sand dollars were not lying around on the sand, but instead could be found only by wading out in the shallow water just off the sand shoal, where they told us you could sometimes feel them with your toes.  Martha found one, along with a pretty shell we could not identify, while I contented myself with wandering around on the sand taking photos.

The week, as I said, went by quickly, and every day was hotter than the preceding one.  So today, Saturday, we knew we had to get started early.  I set the alarm for 4:30 a.m. and we were ready to go by 6:00 a.m.  I did a couple of laps around the parking lot, waiting for it to become light enough to safely run on the road and not trip on cracks.

It was a tough run, ten miles in unaccustomed heat and humidity, and we were both drenched with sweat when we finished.  It has been an unusually steep climb up the slope of this training plan to the summit of a final long run, still three miles short of the distance of a half marathon.  But it succeeded in making us confident that we could complete the race in two weeks time. 

Tomorrow morning we will drive back to Raleigh, and then to Highlands, grateful for this week of running and preparation and adventure, bagpipes and laughing gulls, sunrises and sunsets, and the ceaseless sound of the surf breaking on the shore.