Autumn Breeze

It was raining when we left Highlands on Sunday afternoon to run the Autumn Breeze 5-K in Tallulah Falls, a scenic race that we have completed more than once over the years.  By the time we reached Clayton, it was raining more heavily, but by the time we arrived at Tallulah Gorge State Park, it had tapered off and the sun was shining.

Not that we mind the rain.  We have gotten very, very wet in past races, including one memorable Flying Pirate Half Marathon in 2012.  I remember that the previous time we had run that particular race, the weather conditions had been perfect, and we had lingered at the finish line for a long time listening to a live band and soaking up sunshine.  But in 2012, it was already raining by the time we lined up at the start, and it never relented.  When we crossed the finish line, we eschewed finish line ceremonies and made a beeline for our car, where we huddled with the heater on.  There is a “selfie” of us buried somewhere on my computer of the two of us, and I think I will keep it buried.

It had only been a week since our last race, so it would have been easy to have remained in Highlands, or even to have remained in our car once we had arrived.  Running in the rain in a half marathon or a marathon for which you have trained for weeks or even months is one thing, but getting drenched in a small 5-K is another.  But the sun was shining and we chatted with some friends at the start, including Anthony, who was not running the race because he had just completed a half marathon the day before and was planning to run the Boston Marathon in six days.  So it was partly a matter of not wanting to lose face, and partly a matter of having already pinned that race bib on our shirts (there can be no turning back after that point), that we lined up, while the rain (naturally) began falling again, heavier and heavier, as the race officials seemed to drone on forever about the course and the beneficiaries of the proceeds from the race.  “Come on!” we were all thinking.  “Let’s go!”  Just before the start, Martha looked at me and said, “Are you sure you want to do this?”  But, of course, we both knew the answer. 

After about a half-mile of running in that kind of rain, a runner simply forgets about dodging the puddles and keeping his shoes dry.  It’s too late for that.  And there’s really no sense in stopping and going back.  Being a DNS (Did Not Start) is one thing; being a DNF (Did Not Finish) is another, and neither of us has been the latter.  I watched Martha pull away from me until she was out of sight.  And then we just hunkered down and tried to avoid the deeper puddles, flinching as a loud clap of thunder echoed through the Gorge at about the One Mile mark.  The course is normally a fast one, following a gentle grade downhill and then crossing and running alongside the rocky Tallulah River, finally returning on a paved greenway trail.  Roots had pushed up the asphalt in many places on that trail and avoiding tripping on them consumed much of my attention.  Still, it was a beautiful day, leaves just starting to turn, and there is a kind of defiant bravado about running in truly horrendous conditions.  “Hey!  Can I borrow that umbrella for a mile or two?” I asked some bystanders.

By the time we crossed the finish line, the rain had tapered off again, and then while we waited for the results it returned, and 159 cold, wet runners huddled under a few sparse tents.  We were pleased to learn that Martha had taken first place in a time of 35:05, while I took second place in 39:19.  Not bad for these conditions!

Martha also got to select a hand-made piece of local pottery, which she learned had been made by someone named “Rayne.”

After the awards, we hurried back to the car, contorting ourselves comically as we stripped off wet shirts and replaced them with dry ones as best we could.  As we dried out and warmed up a little, we began to feel better and better about the day.  It was what runners like to call a “character building” run, and I suppose that even at our age we can benefit from some adversity.  “The greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it,” Moliere said. 

And we had a plan:  take-out pizza from Fortify Pi in Clayton, called in just as we left the Park, and cold beer just around the corner at Currahee Brewing.

Now my shoes are slowly drying on the stone hearth of our fireplace, and it looks like it will be several days before that happens.