Greensboro is four-and-a-half hours from Highlands, but with some stops along the way we were not able to pick up our race packets until late in the afternoon. It seemed to be a well-organized event, with chip timing, nice long-sleeved technical shirts with hoods, and silly turkey hats which were not aerodynamic at all - they might have functioned well for strutting or trotting or wobbling, but not for running. As a result of the late hour, we did not have an opportunity to drive the course and had no idea what conditions we would be facing. It was being held at Greensboro Country Park, so it might conceivably consist of unpaved trails. It's nice to know what to expect on a course, but sometimes it's fun to be surprised, too!
This would be my 190th race, I realized from my running log, with distances varying from a single mile to a full marathon. Martha has run about a hundred fewer than that but is catching up. All of those races have given us a good idea how to prepare, and for most of our races it has been the same the night before: pasta with marinara sauce, a little bread, a little salad . . . and very little sleep. The alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. and we had our usual breakfast, then drove to the Country Park and a parking lot that was already filling up. Temperatures were in the 40s but the wind was a factor, and we waited in the car until it was time to warm up.
Most Thanksgiving Day races are family events and this was no exception, with many young children dressed like turkeys, pumpkins, and pilgrims. What a wonderfully appropriate event for an active family to do together on this national holiday when we pause to give thanks for our many blessings, to celebrate the bonds of family - in the words of the hymn, to gather together to ask the Lord's blessing. Of course, we both thought about our own families growing up as children, the trips to Florida to be with my Mom and Dad while they were alive, and then the many years that we traveled to Raleigh to be with Martha's family, to see her grandmother "Mamah," and to eat a delicious and bountiful dinner prepared by her aunt, Lizette. Only later in life when we prepared dinners similar to this did we realize how much work went into it! Thank you, Lizette!
It turned out that there were about 1200 participants today, including 300-or-so walkers in a Fun Run that began before the timed 5-K race. This was more than we had anticipated, but we both lined up toward the front, nervously eyeing the many strollers and dogs around us. I have almost been tripped by both in races before, so we were both apprehensive. "Just make sure you don't trip," I told Martha, and she told me the same. A few minutes before the start, a young woman sang the National Anthem - for a 5-K, this race had everything! - and then we were off, on wide, paved trails, elbowed by throngs of runners but soon thinning out a little. I came very close to tripping over a stroller, and one or two dogs seemed to be on unusually long leashes. The stiff wind was in our faces. And there were hills, and lots of them, also unanticipated. But that is a challenge we are accustomed to overcoming; in fact, I found myself passing many runners on the uphill, and in turn being passed on the downhill. And these children! They would sprint past an old guy like me, weaving back and forth, and then abruptly stop, out of breath, often right in front of me. Even at the finish line, I could hear the sudden commotion of little feet behind me, and five or six children ran by on either side. I threw up my hands in frustration:
And then I realized that they were children, out here having fun, and I know their parents were happy that they were not sitting in front of a TV, or gazing down at the tiny screen of a mobile phone, as so many were. And the look on their faces was pure joy at having run a race, an invaluable experience for a young child.
We both found ourselves running well, and I realized that I was finally beginning to get back in good race condition after this year's setbacks. And that is a good feeling - pulling hills, passing younger runners, and no pain in that troublesome right knee whatsoever. I had planned to try to finish under 35 minutes so was pleased with my 34:27 time; Martha finished in 30:04. "Guess what?" Martha told me a minute or so after I finished. "We both placed! Second place!" That was a surprise; I discovered later that there were 6 men in my age group, and Martha had an incredible 29 women in hers, nearly all of them younger than she was. Somewhat reluctantly, I donned the silly hat for the awards ceremony photo, and was glad I did.
Now it was time to celebrate! Martha had identified a local restaurant called Lucky 32 Southern Kitchen, which featured "exceptional renderings of classic Southern dishes." Thanksgiving dinner consisted of smoked turkey, pureed parsnips, collard greens, and spoon bread, a different take on the usual fare and one which we appreciated. It was good, healthy cuisine. And despite the wording on the back of our shirts, we did not overeat!
After dinner, we found our way to a local movie theater and watched a movie that we had been looking forward to seeing, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, about Mr. Rogers. I knew that Fred Rogers was a fellow Rollins College alumnus and an ordained Presbyterian Pastor, and I also knew that Tom Hanks was playing the lead. It proved to be a very good movie, a tribute to a true hero to many young children who grew up learning that wonderful lesson: "I like you just the way you are:
We could sure use more people like Mr. Rogers in this day and age.
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