Reindeer Run

Race morning dawned cold and clear; frost was on the windshield and sparkling in the grass at the Boys and Girls Club, located in what looked like an old school building not far from downtown Brevard.  We had prepared with adequate clothing, though, and after warming up for a mile or so we felt comfortable.  The race had about 250 participants, not as large a field as Greensboro, and many children, some of them probably running their first race.  "Don't worry," I told Martha.  "They'll be dropping like flies on that first hill."

We listened to a very nice a cappella performance of the National Anthem by a young woman who was dressed for running the race, and then everyone listened to a recording of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer before the countdown.  I have never especially liked this song - can it even by classified as a Christmas Carol? - but to disparage it too much might make me seem like a Grinch.  The children liked it, though, and sang along.  I would have thought Run Run Rudolph would have been more appropriate:

"Run run Rudolph
Santa's got to make it to town . . ."

We were off, and once again this tall, slowing runner was dodging many weaving children and dogs on leashes before, as I had predicted, we hit that first hill almost immediately and began passing walking children.  On the downhill, holding back, I could hear the thunder of fearless little feet behind me as they flew by on youthful knees and legs, only to start walking on the next hill. The pack began to thin a little after the first mile, and the sun came up farther and farther, too.  It was a beautiful course, the terrain leveling out and the road leading us into the countryside, pastures and barns on one side and a small herd of loudly-mooing cattle on the other.  I was surprised that I had completed my first mile in almost exactly eleven minutes, and when we compared notes later Martha agreed that the hills had seemed more intimidating in the car yesterday than running this morning, possibly because we were passing so many young people.  I may have mentioned this in the past:  It is always enjoyable to pass young people at my age!

"How's that knee?" a friendly volunteer asked as we turned the barrel in the middle of the road halfway through the race.  I had actually felt no pain in that troublesome knee today or in the last race, but was wearing a knee brace as a precaution.  "Thanks! It's doing just great!" I replied.  I was glancing at my watch in the last mile and realized I was on target to run about the same time as I had nine days ago, and I was right:  my finish time was 34:25, faster by two seconds than my time in Greensboro.  Two seconds!  That's not very long, but even small, incremental improvements are causes for celebration.  Martha finished in 30:20, about 15 seconds slower than Greensboro, reflecting the tougher terrain.  That was good enough to take first place in her age group, though, and I took third in mine.

So it was another good day for us.  We wandered around chatting with other runners, drinking water, in that comfortable exhilaration following any kind of race, whether it is a mile or a marathon.  I walked up to hear what a man was saying to a large group of young boys seated on the ground around him.  They must have been a team from somewhere, perhaps the Boys Club here in Brevard, and he had an award for each of them, a handshake, and some quiet words of praise as one by one he looked them straight in the eye.  What a difference this quiet coach might be making in the lives of some of these boys!

After returning to shower and pack up, our lunch was barbecue, a rare part of our normal diet but especially welcome after a race, at the unfortunately named "Hawg Wild."  We ate careful small portions rather than with hawg-like abandon because of the next part of our planned weekend:  a visit to see Martha's aunt Anne, who lives in Clemson, and dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant, Paesanos.  It has become something of a Christmas-time tradition to eat dinner, stay with Anne, and take in a holiday-themed matinee the next day at the Clemson Little Theater in Pendleton.  

So these two reindeer flew southward, with healthy appetites and medals around our necks, on a cloudless afternoon in Brevard early in this Christmas season.